I Hate!

I HATE! Utter Incompetence

2009-04-15T14:43:00.001-07:00

Below is recent a post from Perezhilton.com:

Someone please make these people go away already!

In response to all of Levi Johnston's fame-humping, Sarah Palin's father, Chuck Heath, is basically calling Levi a deadbeat dad.

In a new interview, Heath says, "I don't agree with what he's doing right now. It's not right. He's broke, so he's trying to capitalize on this. I wish he’d take some of this money he’s making and buy some diapers with it."

Why?

Doesn't the government pay for all of Sexy Sarah's stuff?

Jesus, someone needs to slap this asshole. Please note the first sentence of his post - I've bolded and italicized it for your reading convenience. His first sentence is: "Someone please make these people go away already!", referring to family of Alaskan governor Sarah Palin and more specifically the now ongoing feud between Palin's daughter Bristol and her baby-daddy, some high school burnout. But honestly, how f-ing retarded do you need to be to miss the fact that through the very act of posting anything about the Palins on his website, the Faux Hilton is, in fact, perpetuating the Palin's media prevalence and encouraging their truly tacky behavior? He is so transparent and thick-headed it makes me sick.

Believe me - I am just as sick of the Palins as everyone else (I cannot think of a family less-deserving of public interest), but I don't use that exhaustion as fodder to promote myself and my business enterprises. Faux Hilton is the first person to sound the trumpet and complain when certain celebrities and public figures (i.e. the Palins) are beginning to overstay their welcome in the public eye and the media, but it is his complaining that is actually keeping these life-sucking stories in the headlines! DUH! How incompetent can you be???????

I HATE! People Who REALLY Want Other People to Think That They're Important

2009-04-08T08:40:00.000-07:00

I haven't ever really mentioned this before as I feel like it's ultimately going to get me into some sort of trouble, but the tidbit I'm about to reveal is integral to my story, so here goes... I work for a major entertainment company. (Kind of anti-climactic, right?) Anyway, the building in which my office is located also happens to house a lot of other entertainment / media entities so there are always a bunch of actor-types and 'famous people' running around willy-nilly. You never know when you're going to encounter someone recognizable. Whatever. I'm over it. It's fine. But OBVIOUSLY, if you work in the building, you're aware of the likeliness of a celebrity encounter and, speaking from personal experience here, you are probably jaded by the possibility. In other words, no one has knocked my socks off... yet. (If I ever run into James Franco though, that might change everything... my WHOLE perspective on shit.)

So on to the story: I'm in the basement of the building, hurriedly trying to decide what I want for lunch. As I'm walking down the corridor (which, around lunch time, always becomes somewhat of a mob scene) trying desperately to bob and weave around the hoards of oblivious tourists, I walked by a girl - probably around my age, tall-ish, cute, and exuding the I-desperately-want-everyone-to-think-I'm important vibe - chatting obnoxiously loud on her cell phone. Of course, that last bit about her being desperate was my own immediate personal judgment, but as I came into closer range, she proved herself true to my initial assessment. Her exact quote was as follows, "I just ran into Bill Hader. He is the coolest dude."

Without trying to sound smug, I think what she meant to say was, "I just saw Bill Hader in Hale & Hearty and I almost peed my pants. I was too dumbfounded to speak to him, but I just saw him and I had to call you right away to tell you because this is just so damn exciting. Highlight of my month for sure, but I'm going to pretend that Bill and I are chill so I can wow all these tourists." I love how this chick makes it seem, as she speaks more-than-audibly on her cell phone in an area impossibly crowded with extremely impressionable out-of-towners, that she is friends with Bill Hader, SNL cast member. I would bet my entire annual salary that bitch does not know Bill Hader, not even a little bit.

I really just hate it when people try to exude importance, when in fact, they have none. Even though I work in entertainment (an industry one might consider to be fast-paced and glamorous), I know I am not important. There is nothing glamorous about what I do and I know it. I don't need to try to impress strangers with tales of celebrity run-ins. I would never elevate my career status or name drop the monikers of people to whom I have absolutely no relation or intimate knowledge of in order to make people think I'm more important than I am. It's exhausting and frankly, extremely transparent. And to be perfectly honest, as I walked past the girl on the phone, the 'friend' of Bill Hader, I smiled smugly to myself because I knew, I just knew, that she was embellishing her story. Let's talk about o-b-v-i-o-u-s.

I HATE! Subway Stairwell Rushers

2009-04-02T14:48:00.000-07:00

Each morning, I descend the stairs that lead into the subterranean train system that we here in New York fondly refer to as the subway. And almost every morning, I find that a fellow commuter is in such a rush to get down to the platform that he or she practically knocks me over in the stairwell despite the fact that the train is not (nor is even close to) pulling into the station.

This - as you can imagine - drives me absolutely bonkers. First of all, let's consider how common sense might play into this scenario. Why run down the stairs - stairs which are narrow, often slippery, littered with garbage and pools of standing water - and risk falling on your ass? But more importantly, why rush down the stairs when the train isn't even coming? You can determine whether the train is approaching from above ground, so if it's obviously not, why is it necessary to push other commuters out of the way in order to get down to the platform?

It gives me anxiety - unnecessary anxiety - to hear someone's hurried footsteps approaching as I cautiously make my way down the stairs into the station. If the train is coming, I assure you, I'll be rushing too, but if there's radio silence, frankly, you rushing up behind me really makes me want to trip you and watch as you tumble down the concrete stairs. (Honesty is the best policy!)

I just don't understand why people need to rush when there is no train to rush for. I know taking the subway is an exciting experience - loud noises, fast trains, lots of people - but you'd think New Yorkers would be able to contain their excitement and maintain a bit of composure. Pushing? A bit 3rd grade, don't you think?

I HATE! Assholes - Part Deux

2009-03-13T15:12:00.001-07:00

I have a confession to make. I (gulp) wore my sunglasses on the subway last week. I know! I know! It's awful. But I had a really legit excuse for committing such an egregious hypocrisy. And you know that I wouldn't have worn sunglasses inside unless I had a really, really, really good excuse... I can only afford to look like that big of an asshole once or twice a year!

The excuse is as follows: I went to the dermatologist last week one day after work for a follow-up appointment. My first visit was rather tame - a consultation really - so I wasn't expecting anything too different the second time around. The doctor, apparently, had other plans and immediately went to work on my face. She wiped off all of my make up (with a towelette that was so saturated with alcohol that it could have been used as an anesthesia substitute) and then proceeded to poke and prod my face with some sort of crazy-looking metal tool that I initially thought to be a medieval instrument of torture.

To put it bluntly, I left the doctor's office looking like my face got stuck between a rock and a cheese grater. I had planned on reapplying 'my face' before I went back out in public, but the doctor had just blown up my spot by saying that the "large amount of make-up" I wear was probably the reason for my clogged pores, and even though I am somewhat vain, I'm not a glutton for punishment. So in lieu of the make-up, I searched my purse to try to find something that might help me to conceal my battle wounds. Save covering my entire face with a tissue, the best I could do was my (brand-new!) sunglasses. In MacGuyver-like fashion, I managed to create a disguise for myself using only the sunglasses and my hair, succeeding in almost completely concealing my identity (and the cheese-greater face). Brilliant!

Don't mind the lengthy transgression - on to the real point of this post. So here I am, walking the streets of New York at dusk idiotically wearing sunglasses as if I'm hiding from the paparazzi. I am already self-conscious enough at this point because I'm feeling super hypocritical, like a real douche. After all, I'm the one who always makes fun of those who do just what I was doing at that instant - wearing sunglasses despite the lack of sunlight. If I could have seen myself, I'm sure I would make fun of me.

Anyway, as I'm making my way to the subway, I begin to notice that people are staring at me, without even trying to hide it - just blatantly looking me up and down with expressions ranging from the stifled, cynical smirk to the completely unbridled sneer of disapproval. Let me make something clear to all the morons I encountered on the street that day: just because I am wearing sunglasses does not mean that I am blind and cannot see the way you are looking at me! Are you people retarded?!?! Correct me if I'm making assumptions here, but Ray-Ban Wayfarers usually aren't the type of glasses that might indicate that one is blind. While you may not be able to see my eyes, I can certainly still see yours AND that horribly judgemental expression written all over your face!!! My dark glasses do not obscure my view of you or any of the other people checking me out (sleazy businessman in cheap suit) or giving me undeserved dirty looks (overly made-up middle-aged woman carrying the wonky-eyed lap dog).

I'm the one wearing the sunglasses! I'm the one who should be secretly judging people! If you're going to overreact to me, my appearance, or the fact that I'm wearing sunglasses at dusk, at least demonstrate a little bit of decorum and try to hide your judgement! It's the only way to be :-)

P.S. I just found out that there is actually a song called Sunglasses at Night written and performed by a fellow named Corey Hart. He wears his sunglasses at night so he can "watch you weave and breath your story lines" and also so he can"keep track of visions" in his eyes. Hmmm... I'm not sure I approve.

I HATE! Assholes

2009-03-05T08:44:00.000-08:00

eccentrichic: for someone so small you have a lot of anger
eccentrichic: what about being told to go back to LI?
Kelirish18: hahahah
Kelirish18: i'm not very small
Kelirish18: but yes, the anger abounds

I doubt there are any habitual readers of this blog, but if there are, I'm sure it has become apparent that my posts come in waves. For a week or two, I'll be filled with rage toward everything and anything and therefore, be inspired to write a feverish number of posts in a short amount of time. Other times, I'll have a weeks-long lull in posting. I'm apathetic and lethargic and nothing makes me particularly angry. (Ok, I just laughed out loud. That statement is not true, not even a little bit; I'm always angry about something, but there are times when I am just too damn lazy to type the word 'blogger' into my browser.) Obviously, the recent weeks past have been one of said lulls and in an effort to be more productive in getting my message of anger out to the masses, I asked a good friend of mine for some suggestions as to what I might write about next. (See excerpt from AIM conversation above.)

Genius that she is, she struck pure gold with one of her suggestions. Why I had not thought to write about this incident earlier, I don't know.

Let me preface the following tale by saying that this post is going to be a bit different from the others, in the sense that it will be focused around one particular incident rather than explaining why a specific source (person, place, thing) is worthy of my hatred.

I had just arrived back into NYC after spending the holidays on the west coast. It was New Years Eve and because I had just been traveling, I hadn't made any concrete New Years plans. So I spent the night at home with my roommates drinking champagne and counting down the minutes to the New Year. After a relatively unexciting ball-drop, I got a call from an old friend from high school (let's call him Goldy) asking me to come meet him at a bar uptown. Eager to fill my night with a bit more fanfare, I happily obliged.

After a bit of confusion over the actual location of the bar in question, I finally met up with Goldy. Because it was just the two of us (the rest of his party had mysteriously disappeared), we took a seat at the bar. For New Years Eve, the bar was pretty dead save for a small group standing right behind Goldy and I at the bar. Everything was going just fine, Goldy and I were chatting, catching up, swapping stories, etc. when one of the girls standing the group behind us (let's call her AssholeFace) elbows me in the back. An accident, I'm sure. Two minutes later, she does it again. I take a deep breath, internally blame it on the girly drink she has in her hand, and go back to my conversation with Goldy. A few seconds later, there the elbow is again, in my back, and harder this time. I turn around and, in the most pleasant and polite way, ask AssholeFace to stop elbowing me in the back. She ignores me. I turn back to Goldy, trying to maintain my composure. Mere seconds pass before I feel the elbow again. I tried to control myself (ok, no I didn't), but I snapped around and forcefully told (read: yelled) AssholeFace to "stop fucking elbowing me in the back." I guess I finally got her attention because she called me ugly and told me to shut up. I turned my back on her again, hoping she had taken my point, and was planning on ignoring her until she left. I mean, what can you say when someone calls you ugly? "No, I'm not"? Not a very good comeback. But then again, calling someone ugly is a desperate, floundering, middle school insult.

I really thought that would be it. I really wasn't trying to get into a fight. (And I'll make a confession here, when it comes to fighting, I tend to do more talking about fighting than actual fighting.) But a few moments later, AssholeFace crossed the line and I couldn't let her foolish and asinine behavior go unpunished. As I tried to continue my conversation with Goldy, I heard her yell, "Go back to Long Island!" Obviously being the tipping point, I literally jumped out of my bar stool and lunged at her, kind of crowd surfing atop the rest of her group of friends. It was over in an instant. I think I was able to get a firm grip on a chunk of stringy, overly-styled, bridge-and-tunnel-hair, while she managed to claw me in the face before Goldy pulled me off of her. Out of nowhere, the bar's bouncer appeared and practically picked AssholeFace up and threw her out of the bar.

Despite my obvious victory, I was seething at AssholeFace's insult. Long Island? Me? She told me to go back to Long Island? I was flabbergasted, especially because AssholeFace looked like she came right out of Jersey City with her crunchy, overly-teased hair and ten pounds of eyeliner. What an asshole. There is simply no way that I could be misjudged for someone from Long Island. Do I look like I come from Long Island? Do I sound like I come from Long Island? I believe the answer to both of those questions is no. A big HELL NO.

Anyway, the moral of my long-winded story is that I hate assholes. Specifically assholes who elbow me in the back at bars and then tell me to go back to Long Island.

I HATE! Ed Hardy

2009-03-02T12:27:00.000-08:00

I'll openly admit that I love VH1. I love the fact that the formerly-music-based cable net now primarily airs reality programming. I also love the fact that virtually every show the net broadcasts is a spin/rip-off of the one launched right before it. (The Surreal Life - Strange Love - Flavor of Love - Rock of Love - I Love New York - Real Chance of Love - Charm School - I Love Money... the list goes on and on.) I love the caliber (i.e. extreme levels of trashiness) of the contestants featured on said reality shows.

In fact, I'll even go as far as to say that I've learned a great deal from the countless hours I've spent glued to VH1's back-to-back line-up of stippers, excessive drinking, and humiliatingly debasing physical competition; a few select gems: don't get so drunk that you sleep through your first elimination ceremony, don't play roller derby if you have breast implants (they might burst), don't call the boyfriend you still have at home while you're on a reality show hoping to find love with an aging rock star (cameras are always filming), and hocking a loogie into someone's eye is the deepest insult you can hurl (both literally and figuratively) at someone.

While clearly I've learned a great deal about etiquette and decorum from watching VH1's fabulous, white-trash-laced line-up, there is one thing that is prevalent on the network that I will never incorporate into my own life. I will never, ever, ever (you'd have to kill me first) adorn my body with an article of clothing designed for Christian Audigier's brand Ed Hardy. (Keep in mind, I use the word 'designed' loosely here because as far as I'm concerned everything in this 'collection' is created by a retired tattoo artist with a Lisa Frank stencil left over from middle school and some neon Crayola fabric paint I found in the back of my closet.)

So I'm sure you get my drift. I absolutely detest Ed Hardy. Detest it. It absolutely screams "I'm trashy". Ed Hardy is one of those brands that people buy because they want people to know they've spent a lot of money on their clothing. And it clearly doesn't matter that everything produced under that label is utterly abhorrent. When I say Crayola puff paint and Lisa Frank stencils, I'm not joking around. Ed Hardy designs strike me as the result of a collaboration between a musclebound tattoo artist and a three-year-old coloring-book-enthusiast.

Sometimes I look at people wearing articles of Ed Hardy clothing and I think to myself that Christian Audigier must be playing a big joke on everyone; he creates the most hiedous clothing possible, charges a ridiculously large amount of money for even the smallest, most obsolete piece (read: belt buckle and/or bedazzled trucker hat), and sees how may idiots he can trick into buying and wearing his strikingly hideous garments. Then, I gesticulate, he laughs at everyone stupid enough to fall for his brillant scheme and then spends the rest of his day rolling around in all the cash he's made.

And when you look at the clientele to whom Ed Hardy caters, that scenario doesn't seem so inplausible. The entire cast of Rock of Love is pretty much decked head-to-toe in Ed Hardy and they're just about as trashy as you can get. Other notable (and point-making) fans include Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, Madonna, Ceiling Eyes and Plastic Surgery Barbie from that show The Hills, Ashley Tisdale, Carmen Electra, Tara Reid... need I say more?

As an afterthought, I guess I have to clarify something as I started this post with somewhat of a trangression: I love to watch VH1, yes, but more specifically, I love to watch VH1 and laugh at how the quest for fame and fortune can cause people to behave in the most ridiculous ways in front of millions of people. Wearing Ed Hardy from head-to-toe falls into the 'ridiculous behavior' category. It's a blatant attempt to broadcast how much money you've spent on your ensemble, no matter how fucking ugly the clothing actually is.

P.S. I have just found out that Christian Audigier is also responsible for the Von Dutch phenomenon, a cause championed by another one of my faves, Mr. Ashton Kutcher. This tibit speaks for itself.

I HATE! The Lack of Bathroom Engineering

2009-02-19T10:55:00.000-08:00

Is there such a thing as a bathroom engineer? This afternoon, it crossed my mind that there must be someone whose job it is to design the lay-out of public restrooms. The official title of said profession, I am unsure of, but with these people, I have some serious, serious beef.

Let's walk through my grievance together, shall we? You go to the restroom, finish up in the stall, wash your hands, and then reach for a paper towel. Has anyone else noticed that paper towel dispensers are almost ALWAYS mounted on the wall at an elevated height? Seems like not such a big deal, right? THINK AGAIN. Imagine this: you reach up (with your dripping wet hands) to turn the dispenser handle, wave your hand under the motion sensor, pull the towel down, whatever, and then all of a sudden, you realize that gravity has kicked in and water is rapidly dripping down your arm and into the sleeves of your shirt. For some reason, this irks the shit out of me. Having beads of water sliding into my shirt sleeves really bums me out. OK, I'll be honest, it actually infuriates me. (And, for the record, even if it's seasonly warm month and I'm not wearing long sleeves, having droplets of water gliding down my arm is not any more pleasant.)

So this brings me to my main point: why, can't these (seemingly allusive) bathroom engineers come to their senses and realize that paper towel dispensers should not be elevated, but in fact, be adhered to the wall at hand-level at least. If I were to design a bathroom, I would actually situate these dispensers lower than hand level in order to ensure that the excess hand-washing-water dripped off the hands and onto the floor, and not off of the hands, down the arms, and into the shirt. Is this not common sense?

P.S. If anyone knows someone who is employed as what I'm referring to as a bathroom engineer, please let me know. I'd love to contact him or her with my suggestion.

I HATE! That I Don't Really Hate this Post

2009-02-03T11:29:00.000-08:00

Given that this blog is called 'I Hate!' it would be weird for me to post something that I do not hate, but thanks to the brilliance that is 'Best of Craigslist', it looks like I may have found my soulmate (assuming the anonymous post that I am going to re-post here momentarily was written by a dude). The similarities between the opinons (and pet-peeves) of Mr. Anonymous and myself are striking and normally, I would have assumed that this fellow (whoever he may be) read my blog and jacked my opinions (the tone is SO similar, it's borderline ridic), but this post was written in 2007, so that scenario is not even possible. Read the post below and tell me we're not on the same wavelength. It's f-ing eerie. Or maybe we're the only two reasonable people in this f-ing city... Regardless, I'm in love!

best of craigslist > new york > NYC SUBWAY RANT: JESUS CHRIST!
Originally Posted: Mon, 6 Aug 14:33 EDT
NYC SUBWAY RANT: JESUS CHRIST!
Date: 2007-08-06, 2:33PM EDT

OK, I have been riding the subway every day for a lot of years. When you start riding, it doesn't take a much time to see all sorts of characters. At first, these people sightings might be somewhat shocking or even funny, but you begin to grow used to the pants less, toothless, yelling, drunk, cracked out, stinky, sweaty, and perverted characters that ride the subway. They really don't bother you much; in fact I welcome a little cameo from these guys once in a while. After all, it is part of our city culture. That said I have compiled a list – a spilling of my mental Rolodex of the people I share the subway with on a daily basis. These are the monsters I can't get used to and won't accept. They annoy the ever-loving piss out of me. Thing is, I never see these hooligans all at once, but I do see one at least once a day.

- Lady that fans herself with a piece of paper in the train car with broken a/c: Look lady, the air is hot. Not just your air but everyone's air. We are all breathing in each other's nasty hot breath and germs and here you go creating a gust of hot wind. This does not cool you down and it is especially fucking annoying when the car happens to be stuck that day, all is silent and we are forced to listen to the flip flopping of your paper up and down as you breath in and out deeply. So fucking ridiculous.

- Chinese guy with yellow nails and a bag of chicken feet: Dude, I'm not even kidding, you are nasty as hell. No one likes a set of long man-nails near them EVER and here you are wrapping those daggers around the center subway pole nearly slicing innocent bystanders as the plastic bag of chicken feet sways near your legs. Oh yes, and what are you going to do with those chicken feet anyway? Take advantage of us poor unknowing customers by grinding them up to use as filler in the next batch of HAPPY FAMILY from the local Jade Garden? I mean Jesus.

- Asshole with the sunglasses on: OK, there is no sunshine on the subway. This is not the L train pal. You sit there with your black as night shades on clearly staring at people for as long as you please. That's just wrong. Your probably staring at the lady's tits who is standing above you or even undressing some poor middle schooler with your eyes. Not only are you taking ample amounts of time to fanaticize about unsuspecting riders, but you look like an idiot doing it. This is especially worse when you also chew gum with an open mouth like a friggin' cow. You are drawing attention to yourself now and I can tell by the direction of your neck muscles that you were staring at me! Lady on the 8:30 F train Monday morning - you know who you are!

- Jerk that leans over you to look at the subway map: OK, your ball sac is 2 inches from my face. You don't care do you? Even though you've traumatized me and I lean back in my seat to shy far far away from your jewels, you lean in closer to get a better look at where to transfer from the E to the D train! Yuk man, have some manners. This is worse when you are sleeping with your head in your hands and wake to find a pants slacks covered man bulge in your grill.

- Ghostfarter: OK, I know it may be hard to hold it, but if you had diarrhea this morning of course your farts are going to reek! I mean the train is crowded with little ventilation yet you subject us to the rotten remnants of your ass-meal. This is inconsiderate and nasty! Hey if one clipped out, OK - it's happened to the best of us but you try to move around a bit and circulate. Don’t just stand there and poof out stinker after stinker while you read your paper! I'm talking about the well-dressed guy in the suit or the one hot chic on the train, it was probably you!

- Asshole with the book bag: If your bag more than 3 inches off of your back for god's sakes put it in front of you toward the floor! This is common knowledge!! I can't tell you how many times some retard with a book bag extending 3 feet tall off his back has decided to turn around and talk to his friend or bend down to tie his shoe and clock me one without knowing the difference. Yeah, that was me who bumped you on purpose. I hate you!

- Lady that hugs the pole on a crowded train: Are you fucking blind!?? There are other people riding the train with you jerk but yet you proceed to make sweet love to the silver pole. Can we maybe hold on for a second TOO so we don't break and ankle??!!! Then, when we ask you to move you PRETEND you don't speak English. Real nice. Why don't you walk to work with a broomstick and hug that you shitbag.

- Nail Clipping Fool: This means you regular business guy with no regard or oblivious Asian lady. Jesus Christ, does anyone have manners?? DO NOT CLIP YOUR NAILS ON THE SUBWAY! I should be making signs for god's sakes! Not only are we subjected to the resonating sound of your clipping but your nail shrapnel is flying every which way and hitting men, women and children. This is by far the most disgusting thing ever. I'd like to take a free shot at your gut while fellow train riders hold you up.

Location: NYC

I HATE! When People Don't Hold Doors

2009-01-21T15:02:00.001-08:00

I really love it when someone lets a door slam in my face. Like I really fucking love it. I'm in no way exaggerating when I say that I get a door slammed in my face at least once a day, sometimes more. The usual culprits are businessmen (whose tailored suits would wrongly suggest that they have at least an iota of etiquette). Often, foreign-language-speaking-tourists are to blame. (Look, I know America is one of the most hated countries in the world [thanks G.W.!], but come on, you can't blame the language / cultural barrier for everything! And by the way, everyone is on to you about supposedly not knowing how to tip.) But the majority of the time, it's just oblivious assholes, New Yorkers, fingers glued to their Blackberries and iPods, who can't take the time or exert the energy to extend an arm and hold the door for the frazzled girl with the monstrous purse, venti coffee, and overloaded weekend bag. (Yep, it happened to me this morning!)

And you know what? It really baffles me, really boggles my mind. How hard is it really to hold the door for someone? Unless you're a paraplegic, this shouldn't be an issue. It shouldn't even command a second thought. It should be a natural instinct, a second nature, if you will. Even if I'm not aware that there is someone walking behind me, I'll still hold the door open a few extra seconds, just to be sure I don't inadvertently slam the door in some unwitting person's face.

Fuck that nonsense about New Yorkers being rude; rude has nothing to do with it. Rude is when I drop my Blackberry on the subway and it lands under another, seated rider's feet and that person doesn't even move a muscle to attempt to bend down to retrieve it for me. Holding a door open for the person behind you is common fucking courtesy. Plain and simple. And no only is it common courtesy, but holding the door for the person behind you also helps promote efficiency, productivity, and the flow of movement. Listen to me! I'm mounting a case for holding doors based on a platform of efficiency. That's how you know humanity is in bad shape!

Hold a door. Prevent a senseless nose job.

I HATE! Improper Yoga Etiquette - Part Deux

2009-01-21T14:59:00.000-08:00

The solution is obvious. I should probably never go back to yoga. I simply cannot escape the weirdos. It seems that the yoga studio I attend is a mecca for everything I hate in life. I'm beginning to feel like every time I attend a class, I discover something that is newly infuriating. The thing is, I do actually like the practice of yoga as an form of exercise, given that I've recently found myself to be substantially less motivated to do anything vigorous (save my weekly soccer games). And this really sucks because I just can't seem to escape the seemingly mocking torment of some of the utterly ridiculous behavior I've been witness to during yoga.

Example #1: Excessive and Continual Passing of Gas by Girl on Mat in Front of Me

We all have the same bodily functions. I get it; I can't knock an escaped fart here or there, but look, if you're having some severe intestinal and/or bowel issues, it's probably best NOT to attend a class where you have you ass in someone else's face for the majority of the time. I think that makes perfect sense. If I was having problems with my plumbing, I would 100% avoid yoga at all costs until the issue had been cleared up. I would be utterly mortified if I had the misfortune to accidentally let one rip right into someone's face. Apparently, though, this isn't necessarily common sense.

A few weeks ago, I attended a yoga class during which, the girl on the mat in front of me kept farting - not once, not a few times, but continuously throughout the ENTIRE CLASS. And, pardon the expression, but this gas-passing sounded rather juicy in nature - like there was something chronic going on. Initially, I gave this girl the benefit of the doubt, assuming that her undoubtedly sweaty hands / feet were making weird noises against her rubber mat, but as the noises continued, it became painfully obvious what was going on. And I couldn't believe it! Have a little decorum - and if not on your own behalf, at least avoid yoga for the sake of everyone else cooped up in that hot, sweaty room with you.

Example #2: Being Told Not to Chew Gum By Instructor of Equal Age

I do not go to yoga to be bossed around by the instructors. When I get bossed around or told what to do by someone who does not have authority or seniority to do so, I get angry and getting angry is counterproductive to the underlying goals of yoga. Unfortunately, most of the instructors I have encountered manage to piss me off in one respect or another, but I deal with it because yoga is good for both my physical and emotional well-being and stability. Generally speaking, I have found some qualm about every single one of them; i.e her voice is too squeaky, she doesn't stop talking for two seconds, he speaks in monotone - I'm falling asleep, she goes around 'adjusting' only the males in the class, etc... My most recent encounter, however, takes the fucking cake.

I'm doing my poses, minding my own business, chewing some recently purchased Orbit Sweet Mint (my fave), when this asshat instructor (who one of my roommates refers to as an 'Abercrombie model turned hippie-yoga instructor'), comes over and begins to adjust my pose while uttering the following phrase: 'It might be easier for you if you spit out that gum.' Pardon me? Pardon me? I was in shock. Who did this guys think he was? First of all, he was, most definitely no more than a year or two older than me at that and secondly, when did yoga instructors get free rain to boss their 'students' around like they're fucking teaching remedial middle school math?

Example #3: Things Not to Wear to Yoga 101: Full Make-Up, Jewelry & Halter Tops

The very same day I was forcibly regressed back to middle school, I happened to look behind me while in downward dog and noticed that the woman holding that spot was wearing not only an excessive amount of jewelry (big, dangly earrings, chunky necklace), but also a full face of make-up (perhaps even complete with false eyelashes), AND a halter top (that wasn't haltering anything, if you catch my drift). I'm assuming that this woman must have been trying to impress someone because there is really no other explanation as to why you would show up to yoga decked out with rings on your fingers and bells on your toes. I'm convinced that this woman had some sort of ulterior motive because she wasn't even following the flow as everyone else was; she was totally doing her own thing, which included some pretty complicated poses. Clearly, this woman was not an amateur.

Fact: if you've come to yoga with make-up on, you'd better believe you'll have sweated it clean off before the class is finished. Jewelry could only be an additional annoyance, banging all over the place as you're flipping your head upside down every 3 minutes, and the halter top... I wouldn't even begin to know how to make sense of that. There is such a large margin for error there; I can't comprehend it.

I HATE! Expensive Salads

2009-01-21T14:27:00.001-08:00

Sounds a little funny, right? But it's not. This is a serious issue and it's taken me a long time to realize just how detrimental expensive salads have been to my psyche and the toll they've taken on my young, fragile, and financially-insecure life.

Here's my thought: everything that is found in a salad (save eggs, various meat products, croutons, and some other assorted accoutrement) come from the earth (and technically, even those exceptions originate there at some point - take a look at that food chain). This ultimately means that you could theoretically grow all salad ingredients in your backyard, on your farm, or in your window planter. And this is precisely why I cannot understand why salads can cost so much. I could grow all of this shit in my backyard, wash it, cut it up, throw it together, spritz it with some dressing (I just love those Wishbone Salad Spritzers), and bring it to work for lunch instead of dragging my ass downstairs to pay $12 plus for a wonky salad with wilted brown lettuce and ingredients that have been sitting out unrefrigerated for hours on end.

And this nonsense about charging PER ingredient? No, no, no, no, no - completely unacceptable. I could buy an entire avocado for the $3.50 they charge me for the spoonful of browning mush they have the nerve to call guacamole. And if you're going to charge for croutons, at least have the decency to go with the high-end toasted garlic croutons, not those bullshit croutons used to make gloppy Thanksgiving Day stuffing.

Of course, I could probably never actually bring myself to go through the laborious process of growing my own veggies (hating dirt and not having even a window box are probably both serious initial setbacks), but I'm just saying, it's totally possible. I guess that's what these salad places are banking on.

I HATE! Inappropriate Use of Text Message Abbreviations in Non -Text Settings and AIM -Speak in General

2009-01-14T14:32:00.001-08:00

emdemas3: kewl

emdemas3: hahahaha

emdemas3: i HATE when people type kewl

emdemas3: and skool

emdemas3: and l8r h8r

This past weekend, my roommate and I had the pleasure of watching a film which should be considered by all to be a truly significant piece of cinematic brilliance: Bring it On: All or Nothing starring Hayden "I have really fat upper arms for such a tiny girl" Panetierre and Solange "I know this is as good as it's going to get for me" Knowles - Smith. Really an excellent, excellent film.

Anyway, I'm sure you know what the basic premise of this movie is: blonde cheerleader (Panties) leaves perfect high school scenario (head cheeleader, quarterback boyfriend, baby blue convertible VW Bug) when her father get's demoted (or something like that, I wasn't 100% sure what was actually happening here) to a job based in minority-centric part of town. Said blonde cheerleader is, initially, taunted by and at odds with the head cheerleader at her new, more ethnically diverse school (cue Beyonce's sister), but then, the two realize they can work together to kick Blondie's old team's asses (oh, Blondie's old friends and boyfriend all turn out to be skanks, basically) in a cheerleading competition hosted by Rihanna (clearly, her appearance in this film is something Rihanna undoubtedly regrets now that she has achieved multi-platinum success).

So, that, in a nutshell is the jyst. Moving on to my actual point. In Bring it On: All or Nothing, Panties and her troup of blonde lollipop-headed cheerleaders speak in text message. Yep, you heard me right; the entire first half of the movie (until Panties move to Crenshaw or whereever), consists of a rapid crossfire of "BRB!," "TTYL," "LMAO," and "OMG" as if these phrases were everyday speak. Jesus, it sounds ridiculous.

Watching that little gem of cinematic magic got me thinking about the use of AIM and text abbreviations, which are both equally unacceptable. When you're writing me a text or an AIM, do not write "kewl" - first of all, it looks like you can't spell and secondly, i thought the purpose of text and AIM abbrevs was so you could shorten the word and wouldn't have to type as many letters. "Kewl" and "cool" HAVE THE SAME AMOUNT OF LETTERS, dumbass! Thirdly, anyone who types "kewl" is automatically an A-Grade Douchebag.

While typing "skool" may save you the trouble of typing one extra letter, let's be serious, the time you save by doing this, does, in no way, balance out how retarded people assume you are because you typed "sckool" instead of "school". Moral: take the extra second to type the "ch". I promise, it'll make you a winner in life.

Finally, I have no comment on "l8r" an "h8r". I will never, ever, in my life spell a word using a letter to lessen the number of strokes I have to make on the text keypad. Yes, "l8r" is quicker to type, but boy oh boy, do you look dumb.

I HATE! Flakes (A Guest Post by Elizabeth Demas)

2009-01-14T14:08:00.000-08:00

Since it has come to my attention that I am not the only one who often harbors inexplicably intense and adamant hatred toward specific entities, actions, and people, I have decided to open this blog to guest posts.

Don't worry, there certainly are some stipulations to this new feature. I can't just be having any Johnny Whatshisfacewhoiprobablyhate blogging on this site. Oooooooh no. Guest posts are limited to only those posts that I agree with and only ones written by people I like.

Below, you will find a particularly poignant post articulated by a dear friend of mine, Elizabeth Demas.

I hate tardiness, when people do not show up, don't return calls, texts, BBMs, emails, or don't RSVP. If there is one thing that I find to be excessively unpleasant, it is flakiness. To the perpetrator it may seem like an innocuous blunder, but to me, being unreliable is a fatal flaw, an Achilles heel if you will. It is the antithesis of decorum! If you can't muster up the decency to return a phone call or text, etc. then why do you have a cell phone? Stop saving your rollover minutes and call a bitch back.

Also, don't lie and say, "Ohhh, I never got your text." First of all, unless you still carry around your father's 28 ounce 1984 Motorola DynaTAC phone, you didn't lose my text; it didn't get slipped under a rug anywhere or get dropped between a sidewalk grate. Now, if you had any manners, you would kindly tell the person, "I am sorry; I made other plans", or, put it bluntly, "I don't like hanging out with you." Cut out the middleman, after all, isn't it better than hearing the same guilty pleasure song blasting from your cell phone over and over again or the excessive chirp of your text inbox.

Also, it really irks me when you make plans with a group of people, and one or two people do not show. Instead, they constantly text or BBM you all night asking you your whereabouts, but never actually show. Don't bother me when I am trying to have a drink. Seriously. The last thing I want to do is be typing over and over again the same address of a bar we made plans to go to 48 hours ago. All I want to concentrate on at that particular moment is drinking my Blue Moon, perfectly garnished with an orange slice.

Indeed, the irritation of a flake knows no bounds when it comes to my personal life. I always try to be on time and respond to people. In fact, it's one of the very few times I EVER adhere to a facet of the golden rule, "do unto others as you would have others do unto you." --ED

I HATE! When (You're a Girl) and You Can't Get a Female Bartender's Attention

2009-01-12T10:09:00.002-08:00

I don't know if this happens anywhere else in the world, but in New York, bartenders usually tend to exude the attitude that they think that they're God's gifts to the world. (And I don't mean to diminish the immense impact generated by all the great things bartenders do. They may not be saving the rain forest, fighting poverty, or campaigning to end any world wars, but they do dispense copious amounts of over-priced alcohol to happy-hour-clamoring, booze-thirsty patrons.) And in that same vein, it kind of makes me furious when I practically have to throw myself over the bar in order to get a bartender's attention. When there are 40 million people at the bar, practically stepping on top of each other to try to get a drink, obviously I don't take it personally when it takes a few minutes for the bartender to make his or her way over to me. What I do mind, however, is when I am not-so-conspicuously ignored by a female bartender simply because I am also female.

I get it. I get the mentality behind this nonsense. Female bartenders probably assume that bar patrons of the male variety will be more generous tippers simply because of the inherent laws of male / female sexual and physical attraction. But seriously, this infuriates me. A guy may tip a female bartender more because she is hot; I won't deny that, but if a female bartender provides me with good service (no pun intended), I will tip her equally as well as the dude who tipped her based solely on her appearance.

I've been ignored by a female bartender more times that I can count on both hands and it really makes me want to punch a bitch. I'm not particularly hostile to female bartenders from the get-go - I'm not a girl bartender bigot or anything like that; I just don't like to be discriminated against, which, if you think about it, is exactly what this is. I am being discriminated against based on my gender, by a person of my same gender, which is just SO much worse!

Maybe that whole chicks before dicks thing doesn't apply when there's money involved...

I HATE! Celebrities with Two First Names

2009-01-12T10:09:00.001-08:00

Shannon Elizabeth. Tom Brady. Katy Perry. Lily Allen. Kevin James. Amanda Peet. Tina Fey. Chris Martin. Tracy Morgan. These are all famous examples of people who have two first names. And, you know, there is just something about people with two first names that irks me. Not exactly sure why this is, but I think it might have something to do with the fact these two-first-name celebrity names are actually stage names and not, these folks' birth names. So I guess my problem with the two-first-name-trend is that, often, celebrities choose to have two first names. I don't know; this just seems odd to me.

Let's take Shannon Elizabeth, for example; her name is actually Shannon Elizabeth Fadal. Why drop the Fadal? I suppose that Shannon Elizabeth sounds more elegant (a la Grace Kelly - who is, by the by, another two-first-namer) than Shannon Elizabeth Fadal. But a) Shannon Elizabeth's photo is probably not what I would find in the dictionary if I were to look up 'elegant' and b) there is just no way that anyone would ever believe that Elizabeth is her real, God-given last name.

Ok, Tom Brady's real name is, in fact, Thomas Edward Brady, Jr. so I guess I don't really have anything to say on this one. But he was an athlete first (and a celebrity second - once everyone noticed how good-looking he was), so he doesn't count. Also, I guess that Brady is one of those baby names that originated as a last name and somehow morphed into a 'trendy' first name (you can thank Miranda's - from Sex and the City - ginger baby for that one). I concede; I won't pick on the Patriots poor crippled quarterback.

Moving on: Katy Perry, birth name Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson. Frankly, I would have stuck with Hudson. The name Perry conjures up images of creepy, pedophilic, bald men, while Hudson makes me think of rambling rivers (or... jeans). Jeans and rivers beat creepster baldies any day of the week. She shouldn't have messed with a good thing; I can't even tell you what I would give to have a normal and (if I do say so myself, a rather pleasant) last name. I think I've made my preference (and point) clear.

Ok, ok, Lily (Rose Beatrice) Allen uses her real name. Like Grace Kelly (this is the ONLY comparison between the two I can and ever will make, don't you worry), she just happens to have tow first names by birth, NOT choice. When used as a first name, I'm pretty sure Allen is spelled Alan. Yeah, this wasn't a great example, but it's still annoying.

Tisk, tisk, Kevin James; I have just discovered that your real last name is Knipfing. Kevin Knipfing. Yes, I can see why you chose to go with a stage name; the alliteration is a bit intimidating, but James? Come on! Why not something more interesting? Why not something that didn't automatically propel you head-first into the two-first-name club? Kevin is just so standard on it's own, I don't see the logic in opting to go with James as a fictional surname. If he wanted to keep the Kevin, I would have suggested going for something like Jamieson in order to reverse the roles of each individual name and balance out the full name as a whole. Or if KJ was dead-set on going with James as a surname, he should have changed his first name to Kennedy or Kissinger or Kavanaugh. I would definitely date a dude named Kennedy James or Kevin Jamieson... Kevin James, not so much.

Amanda Peet's real name actually is Amanda Peet, but just a heads-up, if it had been spelled Amanda Pete, we would have had major problems.

Same goes for Tina Fey. Although her proper name is Elizabeth Stamatina Fey, I guess I can't fault her since Fay as a first name is spelled 'Fay' not 'Fey' even though I should have some beef with her as she totally dropped the name Elizabeth, which is so obviously a national tragedy and straight-up diss to all of the card-carrying Elizabeths of the world.

Chris Martin is Christopher John Martin, but he named his babies Apple and Moses so the man gets no sympathy from me.

Tracy Morgan, Tracy Morgan, Tracy Morgan. While your name is, in fact, actually Tracy Morgan, your parents failed to realize that not only did they give you two first names, but they also gave you two female first names. Clearly this permanent embarrassment has not prevented you from building a full-fledged television career, but I thought I'd point out the awful joke that's been played upon you.

My last few examples were a bit weak, I won't deny it, but I think we can all appreciate what I'm going for here. This is an open letter to all of the parents of the world: Please! If your last name happens to also be a first name, get a little creative with the baby's first name. And no, I'm not talking about naming your kid Pilot Inspecktor or Brooklyn or Princess, just use a little imagination to make sure your kid doesn't end up with two first names. It's lame.

And celebrities, consider this your open letter (I'll keep it brief): When choosing a stage name, think. Be smart. Really try to use those few brain cells that still remain.

I HATE! People Who Lie About Where They're From

2009-01-12T10:08:00.000-08:00

During my first year of college, I had an acquaintance who told everyone that he was from Chicago. Chicago, if I remember correctly, is located in the state of Illinois. Later, it was revealed that he was not, in fact, from Chicago, but from a little town in the Hoosier State, good old INDIANA.

I'm from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My mailing address is Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. If you look on a map, my house resides well within the Philadelphia city lines.

Given the little tidbits that I've just provided, let's play a game. How many times do you think I've had the conversation below?

Me (usually after an introduction): "I'm from Philly." (Or if I'm trying to be gangsta: "I'm from the Illadelph", "I'm from the 215", or "I'm from the home of World Series Champions the Philadelphia Phillies".)

Fake Philadelphian: "You're from Philadelphia?!?! Me too!"

Me: "Oh, that's awesome. What part of Philly are you from?"

Fake Philadelphian: "Oh actually, I'm from Mt. Laurel, New Jersey." (Or "Camden, New Jersey" or "Bucks County, Pennsylvania".)

Me: Soooo, you're not actually from Philadelphia...

Fake Philadelphian: "No, but I live close."

If your guess is a million, you're right!

So let's clarify something here. Close does not equal within. If you're from Radnor, Pennsylvania, you are NOT from Philadelphia. Look at a map; it's plain as day. Simple. Fact.

Why not just say, "I'm from Glassboro, New Jersey. It's a suburb of Philadelphia."? That way, you're not a) lieing and b) potentially angering any actual Philadelphia-native that is within earshot.

Additionally, have a little pride in your native hometown! If you're from Podunktown, Indiana just say you're from Podunktown, Indiana. There's no shame in it!!! Why try to pass yourself off for something you're not, especially when you're trying to pass yourself off to be from a state that you don't even live in! I can kind of understand saying you live in Chicago, if, for example, you live in Evanston, Illinois (even though I FIRMLY believe that you should articulate those specifics), but there is absolutely NO EXCUSE to claim you're from a city that's not even IN THE SAME STATE as the city that you're actually from. You're misrepresenting and that isn't cool!

I HATE! When Older Women Dress Like Teenagers

2009-01-12T10:07:00.000-08:00

This post goes in conjunction with my post about adults wearing clothing adorned with cartoon characters.

We've already established the fact that at a certain age, you inevitably must retire some components of your quickly fleeting youth i.e. belly shirts, low-cut jeans, any article of clothing with a cartoon character emblazoned on it, mini backpacks, platform shoes, cowboy hats, overly-puffy down jackets, anything with fringe on it, etc.

And you'd think this would kind of be common knowledge to the older-set, but you'd really be surprised how many adults think they can get away with acting and dressing like their teenage counterparts. The biggest offenders among this group are older women - specifically the 40 - 65 year-old demographic (and I know that 40 isn't really that old, but let's be honest here, when you're 40, you're no spring chicken).

Case in point: there is a show on a very popular cable network that centers around the work of a high-rolling female matchmaker. She is not completely unfortunate-looking by any means, but I would estimate her age to be somewhere between 40 and 45, and the woman constantly, and I mean constantly, dresses like she's 20 and aging backwards Benjamin Button-style. Short skirts. Tighter-than-is-allowed-by-law-pants. Mini-dresses. Sky-high heels. You get the picture. And like I said, this woman isn't grotesque, but truth be told, she doesn't have the body of the 20-year-old beach volleyball player she is trying to dress like.

And I'm all for women being proud of their bodies etc. etc. , but I just think that women of a certain age should ease gracefully into decorum. You can get away with dressing like a harlot when you're 16, 18, and 23, but at 40 years old, you just look plum-silly trying to rock a leather mini and knee-high boots. I'm even finding that at 23-years-old, I can't get away with wearing what I used to. Let me tell you, my high-school body is NOWHERE to be found and the same goes for the (barely-school-appropriate) corset tops and hip-hugger jeans that were (embarrassingly) once my staple.

Bottom line is this: when you're 40 or 47 or 53 or 61, you really just look ridiculous when you try to pull off clothes made for the Limited-Too clientele. Your teenage years were meant for dressing ridiculously and getting it out of your system. Your high-school style is not meant to transcend into your 40s. And if perhaps I haven't yet hit this point home, please take into account the women on the fabulous show Rock of Love (see photo above) or many of the female guests on Maury. These women, while clearly past their physical primes, are still intent upon resurrecting the clothing of their oh-so-trashy-youth. And while these examples are extreme, I think it makes clear my point.

A little modesty ladies... a little modesty.

I HATE! When Someone Wrongs You, But Acts Like it was the Other Way Around

2009-01-07T13:19:00.000-08:00

You know what really sucks? And before I tell you what it is, let me just say that this is something that is new to me - I've never experienced this before, but I've come to the conclusion that I hate it.

Has someone ever made an about-face in attitude toward you, seemingly out of the blue and without cause or justification? Well, I have and I'm not pleased about it. Let me explain.

Someone that I was once very close with and with whom I have recently parted ways - we don't talk anymore, we're not friendly, no contact at all - which is not necessarily the way I wanted it, but for the sake of making a clean start, I guess it was best. Anyway, I was under the impression that even though we weren't going to communicate on a regular basis, we didn't hate each other - that there was no ill will, especially because if there should have been any ill will generated from this break, it should have come from me. But no, I wasn't feeling any animosity or anger or hatred for this person; I was just trying to adjust to the abrupt change of the absense of this person in my life. Just plugging along, you know. Doing the best that I could. A few times since, this person and I have communicated perfectly amicably and seen each other on one occasion to tie up some loose ends - still with no animosity, no anger.

About a month ago, I found myself in a precarious situation - I was locked out of my apartment at an ungodly hour and couldn't reach either of my roommates. I called everyone I knew to try to find an alternate place to stay for the night, but no one was answering because of the late hour. In desperation (and truly, truly I was reluctant to), I called this person. This person was my last resort and it was beginning to look like I would have to sleep on the street. I called - no answer, which wasn't unexpected, as no one I had called earlier had answered either. Thankfully, the situation worked itself out and I didn't end up sleeping on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building in a cardboard box.

The next day, I alerted this person to my situation the previous evening just so he / she wouldn't think that I was calling at 4 AM with some sort of ulterior motive. In response, I got a response I was not expecting - one which seemed to indicate that this person had ignored my call even though he / she suspected that something might be wrong. More increasingly angry texts followed (even though I tried not to get worked up; you can't hush the Irish temper), but basically I was highly insulted. I was only calling for a favor and nothing more, but I was greeted with what seemed like pure disdain.

I just don't understand what I did to deserve this type of treatment. That was all I could think for the next couple of days. This person acted as if I was the 'bad guy' and that I had done something to wrong him / her, when in fact, as I said earlier, that the blame for the end would certainly have NOT fallen on my shoulders. I just hate the fact that this person has turned things around on me, without rhyme or reason. I did nothing wrong - all I was asking for was a simple favor - one that I was requested our of desperation and something which I would have been glad to do if the roles had been reversed.

But sadly, random and unfounded animosity seems to have reared its ugly head.

I HATE! People Who Can't Push Revolving Doors

2009-01-07T13:18:00.000-08:00

Is there some sort of weakling epidemic spreading across the country?

No? Well, I swear to you that every time I try to go into or out of the revolving doors of an office building (or in the subway), the person in front me can't manage to push the door with any force and I, and everyone else behind me end up moving through at the speed of (and not to offend, but I'll quote one of my fave movies here) "a Special Olympics hurtler".

Seriously! I am always caught behind the weakling (petite woman, wrinkly old man, laxidasical tween, or hippie stoner) who can't seem to move the revolving door with any force. I just don't understand it - a revolving door is not that heavy. In fact, these doors were made with the specific purpose of easily allowing a constant stream of people to enter and exit a building at any given time. The doors are made (and I'll capitialize for effect this time) SPECIFICALLY to be easily accessible by ALL - big, small, fat, thin, weak, strong, young, old, etc. (For the love of God, people use the term 'revolving door' as a metaphor - it's supposed to that GD effective.) I don't see any reason why someone would not be able to push a revolving door with ease.

And do you know what I do when the person in front me decides to move through the revolving door like he or she is talking a leisurely Sunday stroll in the park? I bet you can guess. That's right; I give the door an excessivley strong push, as if to say to the person in front of me: 'Move your ass!' I'm actually waiting for someone to trip or fall one of these days. It's priceless to see the look of surprise on the person's face; it's as if they've been jolted out of some hypnotic state.

Wake up, people! Push! Push! Push! Pregnant women do it all the time except it's more painful and less pretty.

I HATE! No Free Refills on Fountain Soda

2009-01-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

I'm not what I would call cheap - most people who know me are aware of the fact that I shop often and impulsively. I am not exactly what one would call conservative. But there are certain things that I absolutely cannot stand paying for and one of those is multiple glasses of fountain soda.

We all know that if a restaurant has a soda fountain, it costs the place something along the lines of five cents per each glass of soda. So when a restaurant does not give you free refills on an initial glass of soda that they have the audacity to charge you $3 for, it makes me furious. At $3.00 a glass, the restaurant is already making a huge profit, even if you have more than one glass of soda with your meal. There is nothing like getting a check for meal with which you had three glasses of Diet Coke to find that the establish has charged you $3.00 for each one. I'm not going to lie, it kind of makes me want to stand up and flip the table over with rage.

What's worse is that half the time, the waiter or waitress will just refill your glass without really letting you on to the fact that you'll be paying our of your ass for each and every one of the sodas they bring you.

What are these restaurants afraid of? Do they really think that someone is going to drink so much fountain soda that he or she will put the restauarnt out of business? It's not humanely possible to drink that much fountain soda in one sitting; there is almost no way that a restaurant could lose money by giving away free refills on fountain soda. Just to further prove my point, let's do the math:

1 glass fountain soda (actual cost) = 5 cents

1 glass fountain soda (menu price) = $3
$3.00 / .05 = 60 (glasses)

That means, for a restaurant to actually lose money on a glass of fountain soda, a person would have to drink more than 60 glasses of soda during his / her meal. N-O-T P-O-S-S-I-B-L-E.
And let's say, I drink four glasses of fountain soda with my meal and the restuarant only charges me for the first one:

4 x .05 = .20 (20 cents actual cost to the restaurant for 4 beverages)

$3.00 - .20 = $2.80 (profit)

The restaurant still makes $2.80 in profit - pure profit - even without charging me each individual drink!

In conclusion, I see absolutely no reason why free refills aren't mandatory at every restaurant across the country. If this were 1910 and a glass of soda still actually cost 5 cents, I might be willing to pay for each one, but it's not, and at today's inflated prices, I think free refills are completely reasonable - it's all in the math.

I HATE! People Who Cover Their Ears in the Subway

2008-12-19T14:02:00.000-08:00

Ok - I know I tend to post a lot about the subway and all the annoying things subway riders do, but I have one more subway-related post that I just have to go ahead with.

Have you ever noticed those fucking annoying people who just must cover their ears while they're in the subway and a train goes by? Well, I have, and in case you haven't picked up on it yet, I hate these people!

Look: I'll make this simple. Anyone who knows anything knows that the New York City subway system is loud. That's just a fact. The trains are loud. The trains are old (mostly). The tracks are old. The tunnels are old. And the whole thing is underground (read: enclosed) where sound continually riquochets off the perpetually encroaching tunnel walls. If this isn't a recipe for a ruckus, I don't know what is.

What I'm trying to say here is that if you can't handle the noise, don't take the train... or get some f-ing earplugs. There is no reason to subject the rest of us to how stupid you look when you hold your hands over your ears like a petulant child throwing a tantrum when his mother refuses to buy him ice cream. And, yes, for all of you out there who feel the absolute need to cover your ears when a train passes by, you really DO look stupid. All it is is a little noise - grow a pair! Most of us adults can handle it.

I HATE! Patchouli

2008-12-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

There is no scent that I abhor more than the smell of patchouli. Not the odor of rotting garbage. Not the stench emitted by the NYC sewage system. Not even the repugnant aroma of a partially-mummified dead body (not that I would know first-hand what that might smell like). You know, I can't really pinpoint why it is exactly that I hate the smell of patchouli so much. I can say, with some certainty, that I know precisely when I decided that I simply could not tolerate the scent. I had a very close friend in my childhood with whom I spent a lot time - this included accompanying her on family vacations, many of which were spent at her grandmother's beach house. The grandmother in question always smelled strongly of patchouli, as did her house, her car, and pretty much anything that came within 5 feet of her at any point. It was then that I realized that patchouli and I could never have a lasting relationship.

It was later in life that I discovered that patchouli was often a favorite scent among the hippie crowd. And anyone who knows me, knows that hippies generally aren't my favorite group of people - it might be the unmaintained and dirty hair, it might be the lack of personal hygiene, it might be the fucking tie-dye, it might be the crusty Birkenstocks... who knows really? And come to think of it, the childhood friend's grandmother was a bit of a hippie - she wore her completely gray hair long and wavy and her wardrobe consisted mostly of multi-colored, floor-length skirts. An ex-boyfriend once told me that his sister, when going through her hippie phase (at Oberlin), wore patchouli, but ditched the fragrance (if you can even call it that) once she left her days of bare feet and peace signs behind her. My point here is that, in my mind, there is a direct correlation between the hippie set and patchouli, only furthering patchouli's bad reputation and cementing it's scent as putrid and vomit-inducing. Do you need any more evidence?

Don't think for a second that I'm exaggerating here. (I would NEVER do that!) How can I explain just how deeply my hatred for patchouli runs? Here's a good story: I once interned at a magazine where I always got free stuff. I went home every day with tons of make-up and bath and beauty products that were sent to the magazine by PR reps hoping to score an editorial mention. I hoarded this stuff and always managed to get the best and most swag. One day I went home with a bunch of bath products - lotions, body washes, soaps. Eager to try everything out, I used the body wash in the shower the next morning, right before I got on the train to go to Philadelphia. God knows how I managed to miss the fact that the whole lot was patchouli-scented. Obviously, I idiotically neglected to read the labels. What's worse, I didn't pick up on the scent while I was generously lathering up my body in the shower that morning. After a mad-dash to the train, I got comfy in my seat and prepared for the ride. It was then that the scent of patchouli engulfed me. I literally started to choke and cough - the odor was suffocating. I was scratching everywhere and leaving big red splotches all over my chest and arms. After the most uncomfortable of train rides, I had to race home and shower and even then, I was convinced I still hadn't completely shaken the scent. Talk about traumatizing experiences.

Anyway, point is patchouli smells fucking disgusting. I can't stand the smell - it literally causes an allergic reaction. Hippies wear it because the smell is overwhelmingly strong and can be used to disguise body odor and filth that has gone unchecked for weeks. Enough said.

I HATE! Selfishness - Part Deux

2008-11-20T12:18:00.000-08:00

Again with this?

Big Three auto CEOs flew private jets to ask for taxpayer money

By Josh Levs CNN

(CNN) -- Some lawmakers lashed out at the CEOs of the Big Three auto companies Wednesday for flying private jets to Washington to request taxpayer bailout money.

Chrysler CEO Robert Nardelli, left, and Ford CEO Alan Mulally testify on Capitol Hill on Wednesday.

"There is a delicious irony in seeing private luxury jets flying into Washington, D.C., and people coming off of them with tin cups in their hand, saying that they're going to be trimming down and streamlining their businesses," Rep. Gary Ackerman, D-New York, told the chief executive officers of Ford, Chrysler and General Motors at a hearing of the House Financial Services Committee.

"It's almost like seeing a guy show up at the soup kitchen in high hat and tuxedo. It kind of makes you a little bit suspicious."
He added, "couldn't you all have downgraded to first class or jet-pooled or something to get here? It would have at least sent a message that you do get it."

The executives -- Alan Mulally of Ford, Robert Nardelli of Chrysler and Richard Wagoner of GM -- were seeking support for a $25 billion loan package. Later Wednesday, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid reversed plans to hold a test vote on the measure.

An aide told CNN that Reid decided to cancel the test vote when it became clear the measure would fall well short of the 60 votes needed. Reid did, however, make a procedural move that could allow a vote on a compromise, which several senators from auto-producing states were feverishly trying to craft.

At Wednesday's hearing, Rep. Brad Sherman, D-California, pressed the private-jet issue, asking the three CEOs to "raise their hand if they flew here commercial."

"Let the record show, no hands went up," Sherman said. "Second, I'm going to ask you to raise your hand if you are planning to sell your jet in place now and fly back commercial. Let the record show, no hands went up."

The executives did not specifically respond to those remarks. In their testimony, they said they are streamlining business operations in general.

When contacted by CNN, the three auto companies defended the CEOs' travel as standard procedure.

Like many other major corporations, all three have policies requiring their CEOs to travel in private jets for safety reasons.

"Making a big to-do about this when issues vital to the jobs of millions of Americans are being discussed in Washington is diverting attention away from a critical debate that will determine the future health of the auto industry and the American economy," GM spokesman Tom Wilkinson said in a statement.

Chrysler spokeswoman Lori McTavish said in a statement, "while always being mindful of company costs, all business travel requires the highest standard of safety for all employees."

Ford spokeswoman Kelli Felker pointed to the company's travel policy and did not provide a statement elaborating.

But those statements did little to mollify the critics.

"If it is simply the company's money at stake, then only the shareholders can be upset or feel as it might be excessive," said Thomas Schatz, president of the watchdog group Citizens Against Government Waste.

But in this case, he said, "it's outrageous."

"They're coming to Washington to beg the taxpayers to help them. It's unseemly to be running around on a $20,000 flight versus a $500 round trip," Schatz added.

The companies did not disclose how much the flights cost.

Analysts contacted by CNN noted that the prices vary with the size of the plane and the crew, and whether the aircraft is leased or owned by the company.

Analyst Richard Aboulafia of the Teal Group said that $20,000 is a legitimate ballpark figure for a round trip corporate jet flight between Detroit, Michigan, and Washington.

When asked whether they plan to change their travel policies as part of the restructuring needed to shore up their finances, none of the companies answered directly. But they said they have cut back on travel in general as revenues have fallen.

What on earth causes people to be so GD idiotic? Let's break this down - the CEOs of the three biggest automobile manufacturing companies come to Washington DC to ask (well, beg is more like it) for a $25 billion bailout. Without this money they say, their companies, as well as the city of Detroit as a whole, will inevitably collapse. This $25 billion they're asking for is money that has been collected by taxes. Money collected from taxes is money taken from taxpayers. And how do these CEOs see is fit to travel to Washington DC to ask for this taxpayer money? THEY EACH FLY TO THE CAPITOL ON THEIR OWN PRIVATE JET. Yes, I'm serious.

How idiotic do you have to be? It's pretty darn obvious that flying a private jet to Washington to lobby Congress to give the companies that you oversee necessary funding is RETARDED. These three CEOs are claiming that they are trying to 'streamline' their businesses to cut back on unnecessary spending and attempt to save their ailing companies. And then, they fly to Washington on private jets. Each of them on an individual jet. In no way can this be considered streamlining. In fact, I am going to go out on a limb here and say that when these CEOs say 'streamline' they really mean 'cut jobs while keeping themselves situated in the manner they are presently accustomed'.

The Chrysler spokesman commented on this egregious display of selfishness by saying that 'all business travel requires the highest standard of safety for all employees'. Does that mean that all Chrysler employees fly by private jet? I don't think so. Are we to assume that flying commercial is a imminent danger to the life of the Chrysler CEO? According to the company's spokesman, it seems so. And if that's the case, then flying commercial would be just as dangerous for any and all of the other Chrysler employees - so, by that reasoning, every Chrysler employee from factory workers all the way up to the CEOs should be flying on private jets.

I will say that I genuinely do appreciate Rep. Brad Sherman for taking this issue up the CEOs themselves during their Senate hearing. And when asked whether they would abandon their private jets and fly commercial back to Detroit, none of the CEOs even seemed to acknowledge this idea as a good or wise one. This is why our country's economy is slowly, but surely, going down the shitter - pure, unbridled selfishness.

I HATE! Improper Yoga Etiquette

2008-11-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

I have all but given up exercise, which is undeniably sad and pathetic, but the truth is that I absolutely hate the gym - the essence of things like the Stair-master (climbing and climbing, but not getting anywhere), the elliptical machine (I cannot, for the life of me, get my legs to move on one of those things without instantaneously feeling them turn into jelly), and free weights (only for men with no necks) is lost on me. Don’t get me wrong: I am not one of those girls who can ‘eat whatever I want without exercising and never gain a pound’. It’s quite the opposite actually; what I eat goes right to my belly - the effect at it’s worst is similar to a nice fluffy doughnut wrapped snugly around my stomach - so I really do need to work at it if I want to be able to see my feet from above.

So it’s come to this: the only exercise I will willingly participate in is yoga and (ideally) / or soccer. I have already discussed both of these activities on this blog (specifically referring to instances during each where I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being kicked in the face), I know, but today I am going to address some other disturbing trends I’ve noticed during classes of the former.

I actually have lots of beef with the yoga studio where I take classes, but then again, it’s also free (well, actually, the proper term is ‘donation-based’, something the instructors remind us ever-so-robotically at the end of each and every class), so I can’t really do too much complaining. I tend not to want to bite the hand that feeds me, so I’ll generally just (try to) stick to bitching about the other attendees.

5. Dudes in yoga: Just. Gross. I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to be gender-biased here, but there is just something about seeing guys do yoga that really rubs me the wrong way. This applies to all guys - straight guys, gay guys, fat guys, skinny guys, beefed-up guys, pale guys, tan guys, short guys, tall guys. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s just kind of gross. It might be the general visual of hairy toes and hairy backs and sweat all rolled up into one. Male yoga instructors fall into this category as well. (And yes, I’m totally straight.)

4. Showing off: If you’re really flexible, that’s awesome. If you’re fantastic at yoga, congrats. If you can stand on your head without wobbling for a full minute, you deserve a medal, honestly, but there is a place and time for showing off your skills. And, at the risk of sounding bitter, a (glorified) beginner’s yoga class is not the time to showcase your mastery. The classes that I attend ALWAYS have some ass hat trying to show the whole crowd how flexible she is or how all of his ribs stick out when he does a bridge. I am at yoga class to get my own blubbery ass into shape - as are more of the people who attend - and it doesn’t make anyone feel calm or relaxed when we have some chick in spandex booty shorts and a sports bra holding a one-footed bind for 5 minutes without breaking a sweat. The thing is, you can always determine which people are simply practiced and which people are making it a point to show people how practiced they are. It’s all in the mat placement. I, for one, not being super-confident in my yoga abilities, always race to the very back row, but those who live to make everyone else feel bad about themselves position him or herself in the very front row, right next to the instructor. It’s more than obvious.

3. Unequal instruction: Now this has only happened to me once, but when I noticed it, I was so horrified, that I have never forgotten it. The scene was just any other yoga class - nothing out of the ordinary. This particular studio trains a lot of instructors - I almost always have someone different for each class and repeats in instructors have been rare in my experience. This particular instructor, let’s call her Bambi for anonymity’s sake, was a petite woman, probably about my age (23 or 24). She was pretty scantily clad, which, as you’ve probably gathered from #4 above, I didn’t appreciate, especially because the instructors don’t actually do any of the poses, completely negating the need for Bambi’s extremely ‘unrestrictive’ attire. But that is all beside the point. Getting back on track - often instructors will come around to the students and adjust them so that their bodies are in the poses correctly - basically just correcting whoever hasn’t got it down right. Bambi came around, in the same manner as all of her colleagues, but, low and behold, she only seemed interested in attending to (and touching) the gentlemen in the class. Thinking that maybe I was imagining this, I watched her throughout the entire class and, in fact, she NEVER even went near one of the females in the class. Ummmm, obvious much? And not only was it obvious, but it was shameless too. Did this girl, not unfortunate-looking by any means, really need to use her yoga class to pick up guys (most of whom were probably gay anyway)?

2. Inappropriate attire: I have already touched on this, I know, but it really does irk me when people choose to wear clothing that is clearly not appropriate for yoga. Let’s get this straight: in yoga, you’re flexing, you’re squatting, you’re spread-eagle... I don’t think I need to spell it out, but listen, there is simply no need to wear flimsy running shorts which give the person behind you a complete view of your inner-workings. Get my drift? And considering that everyone is facing in the same direction, there is no way to avoid getting the money shot if the person in front of your chooses not to dress properly. It’s pretty bad from both perspectives; embarrassing if you suddenly realize you’ve been flashing the entire three rows behind the entire class and nauseating if you have someone’s bikini line staring back at you for the full hour.

1. Excessive moaning: This is, by far, my biggest yoga pet peeve because there is 100% no need for it. If you’ve ever been to yoga you know what I’m talking about. Yoga is all about the breathing (well, that’s what the instructors always say anyway, but I’ve just never been able to get it down), and taking big inhales and exhales as you do the sequence of poses. I got it. I get it. But the kind of moaning I’ve heard during some of my classes is completely unnecessary. There is one girl, let’s refer to her as Big L, who I’ve been in class with, purely by chance, on numerous occasions. She moans so loudly and so frequently that I just want to tap her on the shoulder and tell her that she sounds fucking ridiculous and needs to shut the fuck up. There is no need. The incessant moaning only makes other people feel uncomfortable. I know the yoga can feel great on the body, but this isn’t orgasm class. We’re not practicing our most convincing sex noises. This is yoga. The moaning needs to find it’s way back to Big L’s bedroom. Best case scenario, I am launched into a fit of uncontrollable laughing (which is also probably not so conducive to yoga). Worst case scenario, I finally hit my quota, get up, and punch a bitch.

I HATE! Being Kicked in the Face

2008-11-11T10:11:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been kicked in the face? Unless you're a blackbelt in karate, experienced equestrian, and/or avid babysitter, probably not. But I have - several times in the last few weeks, in fact - and trust me, it's not enjoyable.

Kick in the Face #1

Location: St Marks & 3rd - Yoga to the People

I go through these phases where I am really into doing yoga as much as possible. It was during one of these phases that I went to a yoga class at a little downtown studio called Yoga to the People. If you've ever been to YTTP, you know that it is a 'donation-based studio' (as the various instructors ALWAYS remind you in a seemingly uniform and memorized monologue at the end of class, right before those eardrum-crushing Tibetan Singing Bowls) and therefore, the instructors try to pack as many people per square inch as they possibly can into each class. More people = more donations, obvi. Simple math. Anyway, because people are packed into these classes like cattle, room to actually practice the yoga poses correctly becomes a bit of hot commodity. In other words, there is no room to move. Basically, it was only a matter of time before someone's foot ended up in my face.

On this particular evening, the yoga studio was packed to the gills and sweaty as a sweatsuit-clad fat man in the Sahara. I was uncomfortable and irritated before the class even started. It didn't take long before Warrior One became problematic; with only a few inches of space between my face and the foot of the girl in front of me, I was constantly having to readjust in order to avoid a swift kick to the schnoz. But despite all my careful movement, it happened anyway and just as I predicted it would. As the girl in front of me lifted her leg before going into Warrior One, she hit me - full on. I could see it happening as if I was having an out-of-body-experience. In slow motion, the girl's foot grazed my chin, then dragged itself vertically across my face. It was shocking, disgusting, and more importantly, infuriating. Who wants another person's probably sweaty, callous-and-bunion-ridden, fungal foot rubbing up against what you use to eat with? It's totally and utterly disgusting. And what's more, the asshole didn't even apologize! After the class was over, she turned around briefly and gave me a momentary sympathetic glance and that was it. Horrific! Horrific! I had the fleeting thought to grab her foot and rip it off. But then I thought better of it; leaving a girl with a bloodied stump for a foot probably wouldn't bode well for me in the long run.

But I think it's safe to say I was scarred for life; I don't think I've been back to yoga since.

Kick in the face #2, #3, #4...

Location: 68th and 2nd - Julia Richman Education Complex

I almost tried to beat up a 6-foot, 7-inch boy last weekend. I was playing in the last game of a rather unsuccessful recreational soccer league season. Including myself, 5 people showed up for the game. Keep in mind, 5 people is how many you need to play. We had no subs. Most of the other people on the team (save for a few exceptions, mostly cocky asshole guys) seemingly decided that since our record was sub-par and because we had no chance of making it into the league playoffs, that they wouldn't show up for the last game. I was staring at the fact that out-of-shape me would have to play the entire game. In other words, I was already irritable and pissed.

We started to play and the score quickly became 6 - 0. Big surprise given that we had no subs and that the other team was playing with a full arsenal of seemingly-professional caliber players. One of these being a kid who probably topped out at 6-foot, 7-inches. Dude was a giant and thus, I will affectionately name him The Giant. Don't get me wrong here, I grew up playing rough-and-tumble co-ed soccer, so I know how to hold my own when playing with overly-competitive, overly-cocky, and overly-aggressive boys. This kid, surprise surprise, was no different. During the course of the game, The Giant continually tried to wow us all with his fancy footwork, but the problem was that he was just simply too long and lanky and kept constantly tripping over his own ginormous feet. It was pretty comical actually and I definitely laughed out-loud on more than one occasion. But this story is not all giggles and laughter, another side-effect of the The Giant being so, well, giant and long and lanky was that when he kicked, his foot would pretty much come to normal-person face-level. This didn't present itself as a problem until The Giant started playing offense and I started playing defense. In other words there were several moments of foot-to-face contact - and it was not pleasant. Having a foot constantly coming at your face is scary, especially when it's large enough to knock your head completely off your neck! By the end of the game, I wanted to throttle The Giant, but my exasperation was a wasted emotion; even if I'd wanted to start a fight, I wouldn't have been able to reach his face to punch him. Sigh.

Nevertheless, getting kicked in the face isn't pleasant; it could be the foot of some ditsy girl in yoga or the monstrous appendage of the giant that came down the beanstalk for Jack, it doesn't matter. Feet are f-ing disgusting and can be very damaging, especially if they meet with a face. Just ask Jackie Chan.

I HATE! Adults Wearing Cartoon Character Clothing

2008-11-06T11:53:00.001-08:00

Look - when you reach a certain age, there are certain things that are just no-longer acceptable. As much as we try to fend off the years with endless amounts of plastic surgery, anti-aging creams, and spa treatments, it's impossible to stop the aging process. After you hit 25, you need to lose the belly shirts, jeans that prominently display your thong to the world when you bend over, those bras with the clear straps (SO TACKY), etc. It's inevitable; at some point, you have to accept the fact that trying to hold on to the last remnants of your youth is futile. Thus said, I am going to propose that another item be added to that list of things not acceptable for adults: clothing featuring cartoon characters.

Ideally wearing this type of clothing should stop after the 2nd grade, but we're not all that clued-in. And it's surprising how many members of the over-25 set I've spotted in Minnie and Mickey tee-shirts, SpongeBob sweatshirts, and Looney Tunes bomber jackets. It's really mind-boggling. Not only do you look ridiculous when sporting 'toon attire after the age of 7, but any article of clothing I've seen that with a cartoon character on it reeks of trashiness. And I hate to say it, but I'm just trying to be honest here; there seems to be a direct correlation between how 'white trash' an individual is and the frequency in which said individual wears cartoon character clothing. I'm just saying.

But regardless of the stereotype I introduced above, my main problem here is that some people simply cannot accept the fact that they're grown and that certain articles of clothing are no loner appropriate. I don't think any one can argue with the fact that a 32-year-old woman with a beer belly should, under no circumstance, wear a mid-drift exposing top or have her navel pierced. Read: not appropriate. Nor should a 45-year-old guy wear his pants so low that you could have a picnic on his plaid boxer-clad ass. It's basic common sense. Some things you just have to let go of with age. Cartoon character clothing included. There is nothing cute about a mother-of-four traipsing around town in a Winnie the Pooh sweatsuit.

Note: It has also come to my attention (see photo above) that cartoon character clothing may, in some circles, be considered badass. My answer to this is simply: no. Not possible - there is NOTHING intimidating about someone with a huge picture of Mickey Mouse silk-screened across his or her chest. Unless Mickey magically comes to life, grabs a gun, jumps off the t-shirt, and jacks me up, I'm not exactly running down the block.

I HATE! Smelling Like the Restaurant You Were Just In

2008-11-05T12:55:00.000-08:00

Does it do any good to complain about something you can't change? No, probably not. But obviously, that is not the point of this blog. Do I think that I can influence people out of their ignorance, oblivion, self-absorption, or stupidity? No, course not. Do I think that through this blog I am able to magically make the changes I wish to see in the world. Clearly, I do not believe that I can. My point here is this: some of these postings are simply created as a venting mechanism and I know there is nothing I can do to change the unfortunate ways of the world.

That being said, I would, today, like to address a very important issue. A few weeks ago, I went to have Mexican food with my friend Robby. I had a burrito, a glass of red sangria, and more tortilla chips than is healthy to consume in one sitting. The restaurant was nothing special - not high-end nor low-rent. It was festively decorated and more importantly, the food was very yummy. Overall, I was quite satisfied with the dining experience... that was until I got outside.

Robby and I decided that a bottle of wine might be a nice way to finish our evening and as we ventured into the wine shop across the street, I began to notice the aroma of Mexican food was following me. At first, I just thought we could still smell the fumes from the restaurant from across the street, but as we entered the shop, it became strikingly apparent that I was what smelled like Mexican food. In fact, I smelled like I had just been stuffed with re-fried beans, cheese, gauc, steak, rice, and sour cream and then thrown into the deep fryer. Ick! Ugh! Gross!

I can absolutely not stand smelling like the food I have just consumed and frankly, I take it as a bad sign when you carry the smell of the restaurant you've just eaten in to every other place you go afterwards. Furthermore, this phenomenon causes me to avoid such establishments all together. If you can't keep the smell of cooking food in the kitchen, there is something seriously wrong. Don't get the wrong idea here, I love it when food comes out of the kitchen piping hot and smelling amazing, but that scent should not seep into your clothes and hair and follow you home like a stray puppy. To me, that is a tragic sign of bad food preparation - trans fats, lard, deep-frying, unidentifiable meat products - these words come to mind.

I really feel like this has to be some sort of health code violation - isn't there a regulatory policy regarding poisoning your patrons with the crippling scent of the food served? If not, there certainly should be. It could be very hazardous to your health - suppose you leave a restaurant smelling intensely of the grilled lamb chops you just enjoyed and on the way home the scent attracts a pack of wild dogs who then proceed to attack and maul you because they think you're packing lamb chops? This is a very plausible scenario.

But the thing is, you know the moment when you walk into a restaurant whether you're going to be taking a souvenir home with you after your meal - and I don't mean a doggie bag. For example, this past weekend, I was with my mother in the classiest city in the world, AC. And for lunch, after deciding that we both were craving hamburgers, we ventured into Johnny Rockets. I know, I know - Johnny Rockets isn't a 4-star establishment, but the food is yummy - especially when you're jonesing for a greasy loaded-up cheeseburger and fries. it's the kind of place that really hits the spot. Anyway, the moment I walked into the place, I knew I (and my brand-new wool coat) was going to carry the scent of the griddle with me for the rest of the day. The place reeked of grease. The air was saturated with the scent. You know when people use the phrase 'cut the tension with a knife'? Well, I think I could have cut the greasy air with a knife. It was horribly disgusting. I could feel the greasy and pungent odor permeating my pores, my hair, and my clothing. I almost couldn't finish my barbecue sauce-slathered, onion ring and bacon-topped cheeseburger... almost. No need to fret - I did manage to get it down.

And the moment I did, I got out of there as fast as I could... leaving a trail of the scent of cheeseburger down the boardwalk behind me.

I HATE! Muffin Top

2008-10-21T11:37:00.001-07:00

After being sent the link to the picture above by a dear friend of mine, the following AIM conversation ensued:

Kelirish18: yes - that's some really bad muffin top

emdemas3: yeah

emdemas3: like turbo

Kelirish18: i would like to write about it

emdemas3: i think you should

Kelirish18: although muffin top that severe is kind of it's own punishment

emdemas3: yes

Kelirish18: i am also going to use these last few AIMs to introduce my point

Kelirish18: do you consent?

emdemas3: si

Muffin top...how to describe it? Pretend you can't see the picture I posted at the top of this entry. Muffin top has been described (by William Safire in The New York Times Magazine) as "the roll of excess flesh spilling out primarily in front but possibly all around" of the top of one's pants. This means your pants are too tight, although by some miracle, you have been able to button them, but the fat that you couldn't squeeze into the pants overflows out of the top of the waistband.

You know, we've all been there. I'm not going to completely condemn anyone who occasionally sports a bit of muffin top. Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes you put on a pair of jeans you haven't worn in a while only to discover that you've gained a little weight around the middle. This can cause muffin top. Or sometimes your pants slide down from wear and all of a sudden - presto! - muffin top has been magically created.

I'm the first one to admit that in high school, I often tried to squeeze myself into pants that were a little bit too small for me. (The painted-on pants look was big circa 1999 - 2003.) This is the most common cause of the muffin top and usually causes the most severe kind. See the photo above for a perfect example. But look, the reason I really hate muffin top is because a) it looks icky, especially when the muffin-topper's shirt is also simultaneously riding up to expose said muffin top and b) because muffin top can be easily remedied with a bigger pair of pants.

And don't tell me you can't bear to admit that you've grown width-wise. I know it hurts to go up a pants size. Admittedly, I've been known to refuse to buy clothes if I can't fit into the size I think I should normally wear. But seriously, if the size you think you should normally wear causes the muffin top effect pictured above, it's time to admit you need to go up a size... or a couple sizes.

And if you refuse to admit to yourself that you need the next size up, do what I do - cut the size tag out. Believe me, you'll be doing us ALL a favor.

I HATE! Selfishness

2008-10-16T11:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'll admit - everyone is selfish once in a while. And once in awhile, selfishness is OK. Like alcohol, selfishness is not detrimental when used in moderation. However, it never ceases to amaze me just how selfish people can be. Let's take a example straight out of the headlines:

AIG executives spent thousands during hunting trip
CHARLOTTE, N.C. (AP) — A handful of top executives from American International Group Inc. spent thousands of dollars during a recent English hunting trip, even as the New York-based insurer asked for an additional $37.8 billion loan from the Federal Reserve.

The news comes as New York Attorney General Andrew Cuomo on Wednesday told the insurance giant to do away with golden parachutes for executives, golf outings and parties while taking government money to stay afloat.

Cuomo said he has the power under state business law to review and possibly rescind any inappropriate AIG spending as long as the Federal Reserve is propping up the huge insurer with almost $123 billion in loans announced since Sept. 16.

"This was an annual event for customers of the AIG property casualty insurance companies in the U.K. and Europe, and planned months before the Federal Reserve Bank of New York's loan to AIG," company spokesman Peter Tulupman said Wednesday morning.
In a prepared statement later in the day, the company said, "We will continue to take all measures necessary to ensure that these activities cease immediately. AIG's priority is to continue focusing on actions necessary to repay the Federal Reserve loan and emerge as a vital, ongoing business."

AIG officials declined to say which AIG executives attended the trip, which reports have said racked up an $86,000 tab. News of the hunting trip surfaced just days after AIG received an additional $37.8 billion loan from the Federal Reserve, on top of a previous $85 billion emergency loan granted last month.

The company said last week it would stop "all non-essential conferences, meetings and activities that do not clearly maximize value and service given the current conditions."

Last month, and just days after the U.S. government stepped in to save AIG with a $85 billion taxpayer-funded loan, the company picked up a $440,000 tab for a week-long retreat at a posh California resort for top-performing insurance agents.

Lawmakers investigating AIG's meltdown said they were enraged that executives of AIG's main U.S. life insurance subsidiary spent a lavish amount on the retreat, complete with spa treatments, banquets and golf outings. Last week, White House Press Secretary Dana Perino called the event "despicable."

At that time, AIG issued a statement saying that the "business event" was planned months before the Sept. 16 bailout and that it was held for top-producing independent life insurance agents, not AIG employees. Of the 100 attendees, only 10 worked for the AIG unit hosting the event, it said.

The insurer said Chief Executive Edward Liddy sent a letter to Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson "clarifying the circumstances" of the event. In the letter, Liddy assured Paulson that AIG is "reevaluating the costs of all aspects of our operations in light of the new circumstances in which we are all operating."

The insurer then said it canceled a future California retreat that was to be held later this month.

Regarding the recent hunting trip, "We regret that this event was not canceled," Tulupman said Wednesday.

This has to be a joke, right? The government just spent $123 billion to bail AIG out - a bail out needed because executives at AIG, clouded by greed and selfishness, fucked up and gave mortgages to people who couldn't afford them in order to boost their business, never even thinking that a financial crisis of this magnitude could have them tumbling from atop their ivory towers.

After receiving the first of two loans from the Federal government, AIG executives went on a retreat to a fancy-schmancy California resort and racked up a $440,000 bill. This was just DAYS after AIG received it's first loan (for $85 billion) to help it stay afloat. What on earth would possess anyone to assume that after almost tanking completely, the company could afford to send it's executives on a completely unnecessary retreat? I know what the company was thinking; it was thinking that it could have the American taxpayers foot the bill for the trip and still escape seemingly unscathed from the current financial crisis. How incredibly infuriating!!!!!! The greed and selfishness of AIG executives can be directly attributed to helping destroy the American economy, and then, they have the audacity to keep this trip on the books! Unbe-fucking-lievable.

And on top of that, the company later was the recipient of yet another billion-dollar-loan ($37.9 billion to be exact) and executives go on another taxpayer funded extravaganza -this time it was a hunting expedition in England. AIG big wigs flew on a private get and hunted in the English countryside. Total price tag: $86,000.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't AIG be concentrating on cutting costs and repaying the nearly $123 billion it owes to the Federal government? That seems logical to me, but I guess I have a different opinion than money-grubbing insurance executives who continue to prove themselves to be greedy, selfish, and bottom-feeding by constantly taking advantage of the American people.

How hard would it have been to simply cancel these trips? AIG's spokesperson has said that the company regrets that these trips were not cancelled. Well, that's easy to say, but it's also just as easy to do. I think it would have been understood that keeping the company afloat was just a little bit more important than hunting quail in the English countryside. And obviously, hindsight is 20 / 20. Do you think AIG thought about cancelling said trips beforehand? You betcha. And do you think AIG went ahead with said trips because it thought it could get away with going ahead with them anyway? You betcha. I don't accept the 'these trips were planned way in advance' excuse for a second.

The economy is in crisis ASSHOLES, do you fucking part, and by do your part, I mean, you fucked it all up in the first place; the least you could do is put off your $86,000 hunting trip until all those people who's homes have been foreclosed on (because YOU gave them mortgages they couldn't possibly afford) have somewhere to live again.

I HATE! Night Sweats

2008-10-03T09:28:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you've noticed I haven't posted anything for a couple of days. Let's be realistic, you probably didn't notice. But in order to avoid any dramatic diatribes, let me just say that a period of my life has just come to a close and I've been a little down / out of it because of said change.

Anyway, let me get to the point of this post. I haven't been sleeping well for weeks - I would say that I've been waking up several times during the night for seemingly no good reason for the past three or four weeks. I can't figure it out. And just for the record, this major life change occurred after I had already begun to sleep badly.

It started with me waking up out of the blue in the middle of the night. I would wake up at 4 AM, then again at 5 AM, then again at 6 AM, and so on until the morning when I would actually need to get up for work. (And by that time, I was so exhausted, I could barely roll myself out of bed and into the bathroom to shower. Not joke, I think I've fallen asleep in the shower on more than one occasion.)

Sound bad, right? Well it gets worse. Since said life change, I have begun to experience what those in the medical field refer to as 'night sweats'. And let me tell you, they're pretty unpleasant. Now, instead of just waking up in the middle of the night numerous times, (and I'm warning you, this is kind of gross; you may not want to read on) I wake up sweating profusely and freezing. And when I say sweating profusely, I really mean it. Each time I wake up, the back of my shirt is drenched and I am forced to change to a clean one.

What the F? Seriously? This has been going on for a couple of night now and I am already losing my mind! Not only am I constantly exhausted (and drinking more coffee than is humanly possible and probably safe), but I am also going through clean shirts like there is no tomorrow. (And considering that I absolutely hate doing laundry, this by-product of the night sweats verges on being the most deplorable part!) And this is all beside the fact that I absolutely abhor sweating and try my very best to do it as little as possible.

Ugh, so I'm not sure whether I can attribute the night sweats to the 'life change' or what, but I'm really starting to get sick of this business. I need my sleep. I don't want to be doing laundry until I'm 90. And I certainly don't need another thing to be worried about.

Night sweats are idiotic - it's not as if I physically feel ill when I'm waking up during the night. I just wake up sweaty and cold. So pointless! I've been told they're caused by stress, which, given what's going on in my life right now, makes complete sense. Although WebMD says that any of the following can be the cause of said night sweats:

1. Menopause (Fan-fucking-tastic! I'm only 23 - this does not look good for my ovaries.)

2. Idiopathic hyperhidrosis (Apparently, this means your body has an imbalance and produces too much sweat. Great - I'm a sweaty monster.)

3. Infections (I don't need this shit.)

4. Cancer (WebMD says night sweats can be an early sign of cancer - again I'm only 23, cancer would really be most unfortunate.)

5. Medications (I'm not taking any so this must mean I am dieing of cancer.)

6. Hypoglycemia (Not diabetic, so again, clearly I am dieing of cancer.)

7. Hormone disorders (Does this mean I should be crying one moment and jumping up and down the next?)

8. Neurologic conditions (Great - my brain is going to fall out of my ear.)

So now that WebMD has thoroughly scared the shit out of me (which it has done on many many occasions before), I am going to go ponder my impending doom. Remind me to blog about how much I hate WebMD and should never ever look at it again.

I HATE! Improper Eating Etiquette

2008-09-25T12:41:00.000-07:00

I'm a stickler for table manners. Ok - I'll admit that on occasion, I may have allowed my elbows to rest upon the table, but other than that, I am usually very keen on maintaining proper composure at the dinner table. But it has come to my attention that not everyone holds these values in as high regard as I do. I'm not going to jump across the table and throttle you if you accidentally begin speaking without having fully cleared your mouth of food, but I will stare at your gaping mouth you until you realize that you need to finish that bite of pasta before continuing your thought. Table manners are important simply because it's really easy for food to go from looking like something delectable to becoming something vomit-inducing. So let's discuss some of my favorite (read: most hated) examples of improper eating etiquette.

1. Talking with Food in Your Mouth

I'm not sure I know anyone that enjoys watching someone else chew with his or her mouth open. It's simply not a pretty picture. Staring at half-masticated food practically falling out of another person's mouth while he or she tries to articulate a complete sentence is certainly not my favorite past time. And I'm confidant in saying that talking with food in your mouth is an offense abhorred across the board and it's probably number one on the list of bad table manners. It's easy to avoid this atrocity; keep your mouth closed until you manage to finish every last bit of the bite. Remember your thought and just wait the chewing out. People will be much more interested in what you have to say when they can actually concentrate on what is coming out of your mouth instead of what's inside your mouth.

2. Chewing with Your Mouth Open

Next comes chewing with your mouth open. I have a very dear friend, whom I love, but I discovered, while on vacation with her, that she chews with her mouth open and to top it off, the chewing-with-her-mouth-open seems to produce a weird smacking sound - a noise, which unfortunately, is completely un-ignorable. When eating with said friend, I noticed that it became increasingly difficult to not concentrate on the smacking. It was almost mesmerizing - well, that was until I realized that I'd tuned everything else out and was literally staring at her gaping mouth trying to determine just how the smacking was being generated. Generally embarrassing for all parties involved. Such a situation can be avoided by making sure to chew with your mouth closed.

3. Eating Like You've Never Eaten Before

I will admit that I have been known to inhale my food every now and again, but I really try not to make a habit of it. I do understand that sometimes you are just so hungry that eating like you've never had a meal in your life seems the the best way to go about filling your belly. Unfortunately, doing this makes you look like a bit of a heathen. You are supposed to enjoy your food and slowly savor each bite - even if it means physically restraining yourself in order to do so. The solution to this problem (and I'm sorry if you're starving, but this is just the way it's got to be) is making sure to chew each bite until it is truly broken down enough to swallow without any trouble. Take your time. The food will most likely taste even better if you chew it thoroughly and slowly instead of swallowing it all whole. AND, you won't look like a caveman.

4. Eating Sloppily

Look, here is another reason to adhere to eating etiquette - you won't spill all over yourself. If you eat sloppily, chances are, you will end up with food all over the front of your shirt and that is not exactly attractive. It's not appealing when you can tell what someone had for dinner just by looking at his or her shirt. That is a bad sign and most likely, not attract any potential mates. Those Tide to Go commercials that feature a prominently-displayed stain demanding attention are 100% accurate - no one is going to pay a damn bit of attention to you if you're covered in marinara sauce and pesto stains. Slow down. Pay attention. It will save you heartache in the long run.

Basically, I just want everyone to know how easy it is to disgust others with improper eating etiquette. Like I said earlier, there is a fine fine line between something mouth-watering and something utterly repulsive - and line is often tread upon by those who do not honor what their parents have taught them about proper dinner table behavior.

I HATE! More than Sarah Palin's 'Lipstick' Comment

2008-09-22T14:12:00.001-07:00

Is this a mother f-ing joke?

Palin's Town Charged Women for Rape Exams

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (CNN) -- Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin's hometown required women to pay for their own rape examinations while she was mayor, a practice her police chief fought to keep as late as 2000...

...Former state Rep. Eric Croft, a Democrat, sponsored a state law requiring cities to provide the examinations free of charge to victims. He said the only ongoing resistance he met was from Wasilla, where Palin was mayor from 1996 to 2002. "It was one of those things everyone could agree on except Wasilla," Croft told CNN. "We couldn't convince the chief of police to stop charging them."

And consider this:

For years, Alaska has had the worst record of any state in rape and in murder of women by men. The rape rate in Alaska is 2.5 times the national average.

Although some claim that Palin was not aware that her town was charging rape victims for exams, I don't believe it for a minute. How could you be the mayor of a town of no more than 6,000 people and not be aware of such an egregious error in policy?

I HATE! Being Out of Shape

2008-09-22T11:09:00.001-07:00

On a whim, I decided to join an indoor soccer league - something I am actually very excited about. First of all, I haven't been able to play soccer - one of my most favorite past times - in close to 5 years. (Ok, ok - it's not as if I wasn't able to due to some sort of injury or lack of time; it's just that I never got off of my lazy ass and signed up for a league.) Second of all, I have pretty much been a blob for the last year and half and have not been motivated to exercise in any way, shape, or form. After realizing that my waist size has been expanding at an exponential rate, I decided that it was finally time to do something about it - lest lose the ability to fit into any of my jeans... right in the nick of time for skirt weather (read: elastic waistband weather) to head out the door. So in lieu of running once every 5 months, I decided that the most promising way to get myself into good shape and a regular exercise routine would be to join a soccer league. And then presto! I would be in shape in no time!

Haha - obviously, there were some major flaws in my plan. Despite having run a couple of times in the past couple weeks (OK - once two weeks ago), I severely underestimated how much being in shape is integral to playing indoor soccer. Let me just bring to the attention of all my readers (haha - all 3 of you!): indoor soccer is quite different from the outdoor stadium-style soccer most are used to. Indoor soccer is played in a much smaller space (usually a gymnasium of some sort), the game is much faster-paced, and even the defensemen don't stay stationary for long.

Good god! Let me tell you that this is sport one must prepare heavily for. The halves are only 25 minutes and in this league there are no rigid rules for when you are allowed to sub in and out, but, seriously, my body was not even close to ready for what I subjected it to. And I've played this sport before - I should have known what was to befall me! It's time to start running... E-V-E-R-Y D-A-Y.

And now, on to the list of injuries I sustained.

1 square inch blood blister on the ball of my right foot

* I could barely walk on it and therefore, was forced to drain it. Fun way to spend a Sunday evening, right?

jammed toe

* I am excited to report that the jammed toe is now black and blue with an intense feeling of pain / pressure coming from behind the nail. I fear the toenail may fall off.

shin splints (on both shins)

* Self-explanatory.

sprained ankle (caused by a previous incident, but aggravated Sunday)

* So, on Friday night, I fell trying to get off of a boat. I rolled my ankle and then tried to play soccer on it on Sunday - dumb, I know.

open wound on left foot (also caused by a previous incident, but aggravated on Sunday)

*This wound was also caused when I fell off of the boat on Friday, but after ace-bandaging the sprained ankle, the wound kind of got stuck to the bandage and ending up looking pretty f-ing disgusting.

Needless to say, I'm in pretty bad shape, both in the respects of physical fitness and injury. I feel like I have the body of an 87-year-old with arthritis. You should see me - I've been hobbling around my office completely hunched over. If I were any closer to the floor, I'd be crawling. How do you get one of those Jazzies? Moral of the story: being out of shape sucks - avoid it at all costs. And don't try to play a physically demanding sport if you have been sitting on your couch for 5 months straight. Take it from me, it won't turn out well.

I HATE! Sarah Palin's 'Lipstick' Comment

2008-09-11T14:19:00.000-07:00

"What's the difference between a hockey mom and a pitbull? Lipstick." - GOP VP Nominee, Sarah Palin

I haven't made much mention of politics on this blog, which is slightly unusual, because I do, in fact, have a concrete opinion on every aspect of the upcoming Presidential election. However, I haven't yet made a decision as to whether I am going to make a habit of bringing my political views to this forum. Don't get me wrong, I could go on for days about the current administration and everything I hate about it. And believe me, there is a lot to comment on, but I've mainly been using this blog as a way to vent about silly things, nothing as serious as politics, and I think I may keep it that way. (But... maybe not, we'll see how heated I get as this silly process continues on down the line.)

I do have to comment though on something Republican Vice Presidential Nominee, Sarah Palin, said during her nomination acceptance speech at the GOP convention in Minneapolis / St. Paul a few weeks ago. She asked: 'What's the difference between a hockey mom and a pitbull?' What, Sarah, what is the answer? 'Lipstick,' she replied. Lipstick, lipstick? Are you f-ing kidding me? Good lord, she is the first woman to ever be nominated by the GOP for Vice President and that is what she says... ???

I am not going to pretend to like Sarah Palin simply because she is a woman. Hell to the no. I won't get sucked into that trap as so many other Americans have. After all, the woman has some pretty awful politics; she is adamantly pro-life, while her 17-year-old daughter Bristol (I won't even touch the weird name issue) is knocked up by some self-proclaimed redneck and is probably ruining her life because she is keeping (read: being forced to keep) the baby and marry good old Levi.

But that's all beside the point. I'm not here to focus on Palin's politics; I'm here to focus on the thoroughly cliched and just plain old ridiculous comment that has gained her so much fame. Pitbull??? Lipstick??? Ugh - are we supposed to be intimidated by you, Sarah Palin, because you likened yourself to a pitbull? Are we supposed to aspire to be like you because you claim to be a strong and ruthless political figure as well as a good mother and the every man's woman? I've seen those gun-yielding pictures of you... And good mother? HA! Your 17-year-old daughter is pregnant! Both your oldest son, Track, who is being shipped off to Iraq (oh, how wonderfully heroic - read: cliched) in the very near future, AND pregnant Bristol, were both just exposed to be hard partying teens in the press. Mother of the Year? I think not.

But seriously, I'm not trying to pick on Sarah Palin's parenting skills. I just cannot believe that her pitbull comment has gotten so much media coverage. It just seems so utterly corny to me. And it seems that I may very well be alone is this feeling; I picked up the Wall Street Journal this morning to find this, 'Many women are snapping up her [Palin's] choices of shoes and eyeglasses and blogging about which brand of lipstick she wears.' Blogging about which brand of lipstick she wears?!?!?! Good god - if this isn't a sign of the apocalypse, I don't know what is.

Women, and the general population for that matter, of this country need to learn to see past the rhetoric of campaign speeches and official statements. During her acceptance speech, Palin said two things that made the ears of women everywhere perk up: hockey mom and lipstick. She used those words to trick American women into thinking that she is just like you and me. Those two phrases do not indicate that Palin will have the best interests of American women at heart if she and John McCain are elected. Just look at her politics; clearly she does not.

Get a new speech-writer, Sarah Palin! You're rhetoric is cliched. Your attempts to woo the women of this country are laughable. I can see right through you!

I HATE! Toe Overhang

2008-09-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

OK - this is a bad example of what I'm talking about. Obviously, I would NEVER advocate wearing those Teva-esque sandals pictured above. I hate Teva's (and anything similar) just about as much as I hate Birkenstocks (read: A LOT). But this is the only picture I could find on Google Images that demonstrated toe overhang. Get it together Goggle Images!

Anyway, the photo above demonstrates what I mean by Toe Overhang - this phenomena occurs when your shoes don't quite fit you properly (i.e. they're too f-ing small) and as a result, your toes hang over the front of your shoe. This can happen with completely open-toed sandals as well as with peep toes and pretty much any shoe that doesn't fully enclose your toes.

And as with many other things, I cannot tolerate this trend simply because it is gross. It is just plain icky to see someone's gnarly toe hanging over the front of his or her shoe. It's reminds me of a crotchety old witch with hairy warts and arthritis crossed with toe jam and dirt. Every time I spot someone rocking the toe hangover, I think 'Attack of the Killer Giant Toe!' Every body run - the giant toe has broken out of it's cage (the shoe) and is coming after us all! AHHHHHHHHH!

Seriously though, toe hangover is gross, and what's more, the problem can be SO EASILY REMEDIED! Just get an f-ing bigger shoe! No one cares how big your foot is! Having to go up a shoe size is not comparable to having to go up a dress size - there is no shame in it! There IS shame in having your disgusting arthritis-ridden toe hanging over the front of your shoe because you refuse to go up to to that size 10.

More importantly - how can one not realize that his or her shoes are too small? Isn't it uncomfortable to have you toe hanging out for all the world to see? Personally, I couldn't walk around like that and I firmly believe that it is a physical impossibility that one wouldn't notice their own toe overhang!

Please note: I do sympathize with the fact that, sometimes, when you wear peep toe pumps, your foot can slide forward because of the elevation of the heel, creating the illusion of toe hangover. This is not real toe hangover - and I will not persecute anyone for that.

I HATE! Crocs - An Update

2008-09-10T11:54:00.000-07:00

As I reported earlier this year, Crocs are, in fact, the devil's footwear...

Parents Sue Crocs After Child's Foot Is Maimed in Escalator
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
AP via Foxnews.com
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,419962,00.html

ATLANTA — The family of a child whose foot was maimed in an escalator accident at the Atlanta airport is suing Crocs Inc., saying the Colorado-based footwear company failed to put safety features in the soft-soled shoes.

It's the second federal lawsuit filed this summer involving a child wearing Crocs injured on escalators at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport.
The lawsuit filed Aug. 26 by Clark Meyer, who is the father of a 4-year-old boy identified as "A.M.," seeks $2 million in damages.

Attorney Stephen McConnell said the boy was riding an escalator at the airport July 15 when the machinery mangled his Crocs and "severely and permanently damaged" his right foot.
Crocs spokeswoman Tia Mattson declined to comment.

New York-based attorney Andrew Laskin, who is leading the case, also is handling the case of a 3-year-old girl from Louisville, Ky., injured when an escalator ripped skin from her foot and broke three toes in June.

Laskin is also suing Crocs over a child who was hurt at a Los Angeles mall. He has settled two other cases with the footwear company, but declined to comment on them.

"This is happening everywhere and Crocs is basically saying it's the fault of the escalators — or the parents are not watching their children," Laskin said. "But that would be the case only if it kept happening on the same escalator over and over again."

In April, Japanese and Filipino authorities asked the Niwot, Colo.-based company to consider changing the footwear's design because of similar escalator accidents in their countries.
The shoe company has promised to insert safety tags into its packaging by next year.

The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission has documented 77 soft shoe entrapments on escalators since January 2006 and issued a warning in May.

In a 16-page letter to the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission in June, the company's engineering director Erik Olson said Crocs has knowledge of 186 accidents involving its shoes and has initiated "safety investigations."

But he added, "Crocs shoes neither present nor introduce a unique hazard pattern when worn by children or adults on escalators."

Mattson would not say how many times the company has been sued or settled lawsuits.
At least three children were injured in the last three months when Atlanta airport escalators gobbled up their flip flops or Crocs.

The airport began posting signs and airing public service announcements in August warning travelers of the dangers of "shoe entrapment" on escalators. Georgia Department of Labor workers examined the escalators and deemed them safe.

I HATE! Hair Flippers

2008-09-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

I'm having a bad day. You see, I'm feeling a bit down and since nothing seems to be helping to cheer me up, I have decided that some good old fashioned hating is the only thing that might do the trick.

And please note: what I'm about to write about here is not what is actually getting me down. I just don't want anyone thinking that the hair flipper I encountered on the subway yesterday is making me re-think my whole life. Just know that this venting session is purely a cathartic measure and is in no way related to my temporary depression.

And now for the story: as per my usual routine, I boarded the D train in Columbus Circle yesterday evening to begin my lengthy commute back to the BK. Everything was peachy keen until we stopped at West 4th. A predictably-dressed NYU-looking girl (you know the type - long stringy blond hair, short and raggedy cut-off shorts, the overly saturated Ray Bans, long grandpa cardigan, and chain with an insignificant, over-sized, and indistinguishable mass of charms) got on the train and (of course) nudged her way into the empty (although barely) seat between me and another passenger. Normally, I'd complain about her wedging herself into that particular seat (if you've read this site before, you know how I feel about that middle seat), but she was tiny (of course!) and wasn't touching me at all, so I took a breath and just let it be.

We're riding, riding, riding along. I'm minding my own business, reading my newspapers when all of a sudden, I get smacked in the face with a long strand of blond hair. Oh no she didn't. I had just given her a break. I didn't get angry when she ignored my death stares and sat down, carefreely, in the empty middle seat. And now this? The girl had literally flipped her hair INTO MY FACE! Can you believe it? And guess what? She kept doing it. 4 times, yes 4 times, I was hit in the face by that stringy blond hair. In retrospect, I should have punched her in the face - obvi. But I didn't, so I gave her my best 'you'd-better-stop-doing-that-before-I-rip-that-hair-out-of-your-faux-hipster-head' look.

Eventually, she got the hint (and looked mighty relieved when I vacated my seat as we neared my stop). But seriously, ladies please! No one wants strands of someone else's hair on them - no matter how good your shampoo smells. Forreal. Hair other than your own is gross. Period. Just think; there could be all sorts of gross and contagious conditions being bred in your hair - lice, dandruff, alopecia... Keep the hair flipping to a minimum. It's a matter of public health.

I HATE! Friend-Stealers

2008-09-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

The first thing I'm going to do here is to acknowledge the fact that I haven't posted anything in 5.63 million years. What can I say? I guess I just haven't been hating on much recently. (I know, I know - me not hating on something is a near impossibility, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)

Anyway, as of late, I've been realizing that a lot of the strongest friendships in my life have been dwindling, or, at least, the relationships have been changing - and I don't like it. I'll even go as far as to say that it seems to be becoming a trend - people I've, as recently as several months ago, considered to be within the best friends circle have been drifting away at alarming rates! I don't know whether this should be attributed to the fact that most of these aforementioned friends and myself are now our of school and fending for ourselves in the real world or to the fact that these friends and I are just no longer compatible? Whatever the cause, these friendship dissolutions have got me down... but not as down as I became when I discovered another alarming friendship trend!

Picture this: I met a girl a few years ago in.. let's say in a college class. We hit it off immediately and became fast friends. Then I introduced her to another friend of mine and wouldn't you know it - they got along just as well. Sounds great, right? Think again. The problem arose when I suddenly became keen to the fact that, at some point, these two girls had become better friends with each other than they were with me! And I had been pretty much pushed out of the equation completely. Before I knew what had hit me, I was cut out of brunch plans, shopping trips, and lazy Sunday's spent watching old episodes of Gossip Girl.

And, I wish I could bitch and moan and complain about what assholes these two formers besties are, but to be honest, and this may come as a shock to some of those who know me to have a stone-cold heart, nobody likes to lose friends (or alienate people) - even me! So, even though I technically HATE when two friends of yours become closer with each other than either is with you, I can't bad-mouth it. I guess it just happens. Obviously, 'how dare they?' and all of that, but you can't make someone be friends with you. Right?

So, that's about it. I had to post this entry - simply because it is, in fact, something I truly hate, but from now on, I promise to ban sappy posts and be sassy, mean, and cynical from here on out!

I HATE! When People Read Over Your Shoulder

2008-08-12T13:29:00.000-07:00

This actually happens to me a lot. I'll be on the subway, coming home from my office, reading a newspaper, and suddenly, I'll realize that the person sitting next to me is reading the page along with me. Number One: this is nosy - you should mind your own business. Number Two: you're probably too close for comfort: reading over someone else's shoulder often causes you to adjust yourself to be in way too close of a proximity to the original reader. You should back off. Someone could easily take your re-adjustment the wrong way and either a) call the cops on you or b) kick your ass. When someone is reading over your shoulder, you know. You can feel the impending mass. All bodies give off a certain magnetism that can be sensed even when there is no physical touching. And let me tell you, it's a pretty creepy feeling to have to sit next to someone who is hovering over you the whole way home.

And I don't even have to go into how rude it is to read over another person's shoulder. It just is. You are not to position yourself so closely to a stranger as to make them uncomfortable. It defies the laws of common courtesy. (And you all know how big of a proponent of common courtesy I am.)

Let me just also say that reading over someones shoulder when you have B.O. is completely UNACCEPTABLE. If you sense for even one second that you have B.O. (which you should totally be aware of, because if not, I feel REALLY bad for you) or smell like moth balls or have bad breath, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT ever read over someones shoulder. Yesterday, I got on the train and began my usual routine of reading the papers. At the next stop, two 20-something fellows boarded the train and instantly, the entire car filled with the scent of B.O. - B.O. that had been marinating in a gym locker for 4 years. And of course, these two lovely gentlemen sat down right next to me. I tried my hardest to ignore the scent, but it became literally unbearable when the fellow closest to me (covertly - except NOT) scooted over to try to catch a glimpse of my paper. AWFUL times a MILLION. No joke. Serious as serious can be. I could feel the vomit rising in my throat.

I can't forget to mention the fact that if someone is reading over your shoulder and you're aware of it, you are suddenly in the position of questioning whether to turn the page when you're finished reading it or whether to turn to the next page when you notice that the over-the-shoulder-reader is finished reading. This is like the BEST case scenario. This is what would happen if you're the nicest person in the world, which clearly, I am not. But even so, the over-the-shoulder-reading causes problems. Period.

On a personal note, I do not react well in this particular situation. When I catch someone reading over my shoulder, I tend to make a big deal of turning away and huffing and puffing. I will probably make you feel bad about doing it - which you should. So stop.

I HATE! Men with Long Fingernails

2008-08-04T15:58:00.001-07:00

Good Lord! This is one of the more revolting trends I will discuss on this blog. Long fingernails - when too long - are disgusting on both men and women, but when men have overly-long fingernails, it's really f-ing gross. It really is truly disgusting. And what I can't figure out is WHY men would need long fingernails in the first place. Long fingernails are considered to be a predominantly feminine trend, no? The only reasons a guy would need long fingernails is if a) he is a coke-head and uses the long nails to do bumps when no key can be found, b) he doesn't own a nail clipper and adamantly opposes biting his nails, or c) he keeps them extra long for back-scratching purposes.

Let me assure you, this entire line of questioning runs through my head every time I walk into the deli across the street from my apartment because there is a particular cashier there who has ONE (as in singular) LONG PINKY FINGERNAIL. Jesus, is it gross. I kind of squirm and / or cringe every time I catch a glimpse of the mutant nail touching whatever I am purchasing on that particular day. I try to look away as he is bagging my groceries (ok, usually it's just beer, but still).

Admittedly, I may be slightly bias on this issue, however, as there was once a fellow I knew who really wronged me, and HE had slightly over-the-length-limit-for-men fingernails. I will freely admit that because I really detest this fellow and loathe his name and any memory I have of him, that this clouds my judgment on the long-fingernails-on-men issue. But still - I cannot believe that I will ever be able to locate a woman who finds this offensive practice attractive or enthralling. Thoughts?

P.S. I really wanted to post a picture of Freddy Kruger (because he has really-long, albeit metal, fingernails), but my computer had a brain fart and wouldn't allow it, so I posted the above photo instead. Just imagine that fellow touching you with those nails. Enjoy!

I HATE! Rat Tails

2008-08-04T15:16:00.000-07:00

First of all, I know it's been F-O-R-E-V-E-R since I've posted anything, and I apologize for that, but I am consumed with my second point, which is that I can't believe I hadn't thought about posting on rat tails before now!

Seriously, I will go into epileptic shock if rat tails make a comeback. No need to be alarmed - I have no official confirmation that the rat tail is on it's way back in. The possible re-insertion of the rat tail came to my attention yesterday as I was casually strolling home from brunch - I was walking behind a very well-dressed Asian fellow - one of those uber-trendy skinny-jean-wearing kind of guys. I was admiring his well coordinated outfit and impeccably-coiffed hair when I noticed the rat tail - it was pretty hard to notice, as it was partially hidden by his popped collar, but still, there it was: a miniature pony-tail seemingly blooming from the base of his pretty standard man haircut. Instantaneously, all of my previous admiration went out the door. The rat tail is a deal breaker. Done deal. No going back.

I think I have such a problem with the rat tail because I was exposed to way too many of them as a child. Let me explain: I grew up in a very progressive and liberal (and to my dismay, kind of hippie-ish and granola-y) neighborhood and I am not joking when I say that almost every little boy I saw running around the 'hood was sporting a rat tail. Seriously, I gag a little every time I see a rat tail - whether it be on a little granola boy or a trendy Asian guy - the rat tail conjures up images of Birkenstocks and white people with dreadlocks and grossness. What is the appeal? It's not even a practical haircut! That tail could get caught in an escalator or in a revolving door or a car window. Impractical and dangerous! AND do you know how easy it would be to cut someones rat tail off without them even noticing (a scenario I have definitely contemplated on numerous occasions)?

Maybe someone could explain it to me because the only thought that comes to my mind when I see a rat tail is U-G-L-Y!

P.S. There is also something a little white-trash about a rat tail (see photo above), which obviously, does not improve my opinion of the hairstyle.

I HATE! Being Puked On

2008-07-16T15:41:00.000-07:00

Ok - so this is kind of an unusual (and rather gross) post, but I'm going to go ahead and discuss it at length anyway.

A few days ago, I was having some much-needed catch-up with one of my best girlfriends and, although I'm not sure how we veered off track into a conversation about throwing up, we ended up sharing stories of adventures in puking. Yes, that's right - puking, specifically being puked on.

If you're giggling to yourself right now, please stop; I have some very serious stories of regurgitation to share with you all - ones which will hopefully convince you, my captive audience, never to allow yourself to vomit on another human being.

Have you ever been thrown-up on? No? Well I have, twice to be specific, and let me tell you, it's not an experience I'd wish on too many people (maybe just the ones who I really really hate). The first time I was puked on, I was an innocent middle schooler, attending my very first live concert without my parents. (And it should come as no surprise to you that the concert I got puked on was Dave Matthews Band.) Let me just assure you that I don't actually like DMB (I hate it when people use this abbreviation, by the way, but the band's name is simply too long to spell out repeatedly), but I was offered free tickets, so I went. Who could refuse that offer?

Well, I'll tell you why I should have declined - I got majorly puked on. The scenario played out like this: I was on my feet in front of my seat, awkwardly clapping to the beat and attempting to pretend like I knew at least some of the words to the songs. There were a few rowdy guys behind us, boozing it up and being loud. Clearly, I was peeved that these guys were being raucous and was trying my hardest to ignore them, but all of a sudden, I hear a weird sound, like a gasp escaping from someone's throat. In the next second, before I could even turn around to give the fellow behind me a dirty look, my BARE shoulders were being covered in a lovely layer of VOMIT. It must have been projectile because the guy behind me was at least 5 feet behind me. Seriously, that's what happened, and you'd better believe I ran out of there so fast, I think I left a trail of exhaust in my wake. Didn't even stop to flip the puker off or give him my best 'i hate you' death stare. Believe me when I say that his was truly one of the more disgusting experiences I had ever been privy to. Until...

Yes, there is an 'until'. Several years later, when I was in high school (and when I thought I was God's gift to the world), I was at a friend's house for a mini-party. I had come to the party and brought another 'friend' with me - one who was younger, male, and not as bad-ass as I thought I was. The catalyst of this story is that I was being a bad influence, trying to make my younger male companion drink copious amounts of peach schnapps - clearly a BAD IDEA. After more fun and more drinking, we finally settled down for the night - me on one side of the couch with my younger male companion on the other so that my back was facing his front, but in extremely close proximity. So we're just laying there, trying to fall asleep, when all of a sudden, i hear a noise (yes, another noise) coming from behind me, like a frog rising in his throat. This time, I knew what was coming, but couldn't move out of the way fast enough to avoid that telltale spray. So lo and behold, in a few seconds, there was regurgitated cheese steak and peach schnapps all over my back. Absolutely awful - let me assure you. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, using the shower hose to clean vomit off of both me and my drunken companion.

Sorry to be long winded, but I think you get the gist of my two tales - don't puke on other people. It's not cute. Actually, it's fucking gross. I can't even stand to be in the same room with my own puke, let alone someone else's. If you feel you're going to ralph, and you're in close proximity to other, turn your head, aim for the floor, or run toward some form of trash receptacle. Quick thinking on your part could save someone years of pain and suffering. Once someone throws up on you, you're pretty much forced to throw away the clothes you were wearing when the incident occurred. And everyone knows I don't like to part with any of my clothes...

I HATE! People Who Wear Sunglasses at Night / Inside

2008-07-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

New York is filled with people who think they're God's gift to mankind. The city is pretty much the narcissist capital of the world. We have wannabe actresses, wannabe models, wannabe fashionistas, wannabe literary-types... the list goes on. And in a city where the majority of the population is completely self-absorbed, there are bound to be those people floating around who consider themselves to be way more important than they actually are.

And this brings me to my most recent pet peeve - people who wear their sunglasses inside or at night. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't sunglasses usually used to block the harmful rays of the sun from damaging the delicate, yet absolutely essential organ called the eyes? And doesn't the sun usually go down at night - that is why it's called night, right? There is no sun. And no sun means no harmful UV rays. So wouldn't it make logical sense to not wear your sunglasses when there is no sun, and therefore no UV rays? The logic here is flawless. No one can argue with that.

However, on a daily basis, I see New Yorkers walking around at night or inside with sunglasses on! As I have just proved, it doesn't make logical sense to wear your sunglasses at night or inside, but people do it anyway. Why? Because half of New York thinks it's too cool for school and by wearing sunglasses when unnecessary, people seem cool, mysterious, and important. Or at least, they think they seem cool, mysterious, and important. In actuality, they just look idiotic when they parade around in the subway or in Starbucks wearing big dark glasses.

I think that because New York is so celebrity-obsessed (and because there are so many celebrities living here) that the common people come to the conclusion that wearing sunglasses when not appropriate will signal to others that you're some sort of celebrity. Wearing big dark glasses during the night hints that you don't want to be seen or recognized. You're literally hiding your face. And this tactic often works for celebrities, who really don't want to be recognized and draw any attention or a crowd, but for regular folks? It just makes you look like an f-ing douchebag. And don't fool yourself - no one is going to think you're a celebrity because you're wearing sunglasses on the subway when you're A) taking the subway (celebrities don't usually rock out on mass transit and B) you're wearing You're not as important as you think you are. Get over it and take off the f-ing sunglasses.

I HATE! Birkenstocks

2008-07-01T14:07:00.001-07:00

You have no idea how long this hatred goes back. My earliest memory of Birkenstocks is seeing my crazy aunt wearing them constantly - Summer, Winter, Autumn, and Spring. She always had Birkenstocks on - no matter the season or the weather. And perhaps, since this particular aunt of mine is a little granola-y and most certainly was a hippie earlier in her life, I began to develop a negative connotation toward Birks.

First of all, I want to clarify which particular style of Birkenstocks I am referring to here. I am keenly aware that Birkenstock makes many different styles of shoes, most of them I find unoffensive and many of which, my mom actually wears. I am referring to the original Bireknstock style that I have featured below.I hate these! And I will admit that the reasoning behind my hatred is a bit odd, but nevertheless, I am steadfast in my convictions. There is something about this particular style of shoe that seems dirty - maybe it's the brown suede the shoe is often made from. It just screams 'I attract dirt, foot sweat, toe jam, and anything else that I can pick up while walking around!' Ick! And there is something about how the Birkenstock displays the foot that totally grosses me out. It doesn't cover any of the toe - it displays the entire thing. Whole toe is not sexy - especially not hairy toe. And this brings me to my next point.

Men should never ever be wearing Birkenstocks! Unless you want to look like a 13th century Medieval peasant, please choose alternate footwear! I am not a huge proponent of sandals for men in general, but let it be known that the man in Birkenstocks gives all men in sandals a bad name. They're simply not acceptable footwear for the male specimen. Period. I will not argue this point. It is fact.

And, I was trying to be politically correct and not offend anyone, but frankly, the real reason I hate Birkenstocks is because they are hippie attire. The remind me of unwashed, white people with dreads, playing guitar and singing in green pastures. Maybe I'm just an asshole, but the hippie is generally not one whom i aspire to be like. There's just something about Birkenstocks that is so reminiscent of hippie-dom. And that grosses me out. Sorry.

I HATE! Muscle Tees

2008-06-25T10:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, I realize, but I really think that the Prozac is preventing me from becoming enraged as easily and as often. Modern medicine's a wonderful thing, isn't it? Although it considerably cuts down on original content for this blog.

Anyway, I was sitting on the train this morning as it pulled into the 14th Street Station, when a unremarkable-looking fellow boarded and sat down across the aisle from me. There wasn't much about him that caught the eye, so I quickly gave him the once-over and went back to my book. But then... I noticed something that made my blood boil - a feeling that I haven't been privy to in quite some time; the man was wearing a muscle tee! A muscle tee! A muscle tee! Excuse me, but I don't recall travelling back in time to 1985.

To be clear, there is no excuse for wearing a muscle tee. Some, including my own father, may argue that muscle tees are 100% acceptable while working out at the gym (or in his very unique case, worn while working out, but on top of a second fully-sleeved tee shirt), but I remain firm in my opinion that muscle tees are vomit-inducing. I can't pinpoint exactly what is it about the MT that drives me bonkers, but I suspect it has something to do with the high neck / no sleeves combo - truly offensive!

Women should never wear muscle tees. And to be fair, I'm not really complaining about women here; it's more of a male phenomenon. Sans sleeves, a tee shirt, AKA a muscle tee, reveals hairy man armpits. I don't want to see your hairy man armpits - working out or ANYWHERE ELSE! Hairy man armpits are not attractive. If I could somehow convince the world that men should also be socially required to shave their armpits, I would.

Another point in the CON column would have to be the fact that the muscle tee, with it's ripped (or cut-off) sleeves, is strikingly white trash. Sitings of muscle tees conjure up images of trailer parks, pick-up trucks, Marlboro Reds, 40s of Olde English, and toothless guys named Bo. This statement is not intended to offend - I'm sure there are plenty of upstanding citizens residing in trailer parks these days, but you know what I'm trying to say here. The muscle tee belongs far from New York City streets.

(Note: I found the picture above on a website called GreatGuyGifts.com - I'm going to pray that the site doesn't get a lot of traffic. We can't afford to have any guys walking around looking like that. And really - what guy would wear that shirt?)

I HATE! An Update

2008-06-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

Ok - I don't hate updates, I just wanted to give an update on a post I made a couple weeks ago. Remember how I was ranting and raving about celebrities thinking being a celebrity qualifies them to design a line of clothing? And remember how I was almost pushed over the edge by the news that faux-celebrity Perez Hilton was awarded a clothing line of his own? Well, as it turns out, I wasn't the only one who was appalled by the thought of the jolly green (or blue, or pink, or whatever horrid color hair he has this week) giant being given license to 'design'. See link below.

http://nymag.com/daily/fashion/2008/06/no_one_wants_perez_hiltons_clo_1.html

I HATE! Those Annoying People from The Hills

2008-06-10T14:09:00.000-07:00

Today, I came across a highly hilarious article giving background details on the 'feud' between Mary-Kate Olsen and Spencer Pratt. For all of you guys lucky enough to be living under a rock, Spencer Pratt is that obnoxious guy from The Hills who is obnoxiously attached to the hip of that obnoxious girl with fake boobs named Heidi Montag who is obnoxiously feuding with that other obnoxious chick from The Hills, Lauren Conrad. The alleged feud began when MK mentioned on Letterman that she and SP had gone to high school together and that she remember that he used to storm off the school's soccer field in fits of fury. Then SP, being the media whore that he is, fired back, calling MK 'the ugly twin'. Then it occurred to me: Why is this idiot Spencer Pratt messing with someone who will forever be infinitely more famous and wealthy than him? He isn't even on the same plane as MK. He just wishes he was. But Spencer Pratt is not the only retard on the The Hills; they are all beyond obnoxious. Can I bring to attention all the needless attention garnered by Lauren Conrad after people 'found out' that she allegedly made that sex tape with her douchy ex-boyfriend Jason Wahler? What about those supposedly 'leaked' topless pictures of Audrina Patridge? And Heidi Montag? Everything about that chick is laughable. And the more ridiculous thing about these kids? None of them are really famous for anything, yet none of them can seem to stay out of the limelight for more than two seconds, which makes them even more obnoxious. If that's even possible.

Before I delve into exactly why it is that I hate The Hills, let me just emphasize how hilarious I think it is that the flash-in-the-pan obnoxiousness that is Spencer Pratt thinks he can publicly bad mouth one of the Olsen twins and think that it would make any sort of difference to anyone. Everyone hates you Spencer Pratt; and no one is going to start vehemently hating MK just because you said she was the ugly twin. As if!

So let me get down to the nitty gritty. From Day 1, I hated Laguna Beach. While many of my peers were plunking themselves down in front of their TVs to catch the drama unfold between Lauren Conrad and Kristen Cavallari, I was off doing more important and less idiotic things, i.e. not killing my brain cells by watching obnoxious teens from Laguna Beach contemplating what size frappaccino to get from Starbucks.

But clearly, I am in the minority here, as MTV went out and gave Lauren Conrad her own spin-off. The Hills is even more mindless than it's predecessor, if that's even possible. This time we have obnoxious twenty-somethings contemplating... actually, I don't even know what they do on thew show because I refuse to watch it.

My problem doesn't really lie in the fact that the show is scripted, even though it claims to be reality (and there are numerous examples of slip-ups that prove this). It lies in the fact that these people are not interesting; they have nothing to offer to society. In fact, they only add to the growing superficiality and self-absorption that has come to define pop culture and the entertainment industry today. These girls (and few fellows) are not role models. The live unrealistic lives and set unattainable expectations for young girls watching the show. All they do is feud internally, sit in offices pretending to do work, call the paparazzi on themselves, and garner unnecessary public attention. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Lauren Conrad has not done much to improve the planet - and creating a line of overpriced, unoriginal dresses doesn't count for anything.

I don't even want to get started on Heidi Montag. Let me list the things I have involuntarily learned about her via the Internet and TV: she had a really obvious-looking boob job. She is attached to the hip to her creepy, and pretty unremarkable boyfriend / manager (hahaha - what an idiotic career move) Spencer Pratt. She wants to be a singer. So badly, in fact, that she had Creepy Spencer film her self-produced music videos with a handheld camera. She created a line of clothes, excuse me, she created a line of costumes for stippers that she pedals for 100 times more than the entire line is worth. She is a Republican and plans to vote for John McCain (if she actually knows anything about politics, I would be utterly and completely shocked). And while I wish I could say that she is hideous, she is, unlike someone I'll just call Lauren Conrad, not bad to look at. At least she's got that going for her.

But the real issue here is that I do not watch The Hills. In fact, I try to steer clear of it at all costs, but The Hills people have an annoying knack of popping up everywhere, making it literally impossible to ignore them. I know so much about everyone on that f-ing show, yet I've never watched even a moment of it. There is something just so wrong about that.

I HATE! The Conspiracy that is Movie-Size Sodas

2008-06-06T13:21:00.001-07:00

I just went to go see the Sex and the City movie and I will admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the film, except for the fact that I had to get up in the middle of it and run to the bathroom. Wanna know why? If not, stop reading now because I'm telling you anyway. I felt like my bladder was going to explode. Yes, explode, and the cause of the impending bladder explosion was the huge Diet Coke (or as I like to refer to it, DC) I purchased at the concession stand before the show.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming anyone except myself for purchasing the monstrosity - if you know me, you know that I can't resist a big frosty glass of fountain DC. But as I see it, there is clearly some sort of conspiracy going on here. The movie theatres push these huge sodas on you - the small is comparable to the size of my head and the large is mammoth, but such a value at only a quarter more - and then, by the time you've consumed even a fraction of the beverage, you have to run out of the theatre mid-movie to relieve yourself essentially screwing yourself out of seeing what could perhaps be an integral part of the movie!

Maybe I'm alone in this, but I'm not joking when I say that this happens to me every single time I go to the movies! Maybe it's my fault for having a smaller-than-average bladder. Can I get some consensus on this? Conspiracy or do I simply need to exert some will power and avoid big frosty calorie-less beverages?

I HATE! Facebook Wall Fake-Outs

2008-06-05T13:20:00.000-07:00

Have you ever gone into your email and found a message from those friendly fellows at Facebook stating that someone has written on that wonderfully glorious invention that is your Facebook wall? Here's how the rest of the scenario plays out: excitedly, you close your email account and log into Facebook, scroll through the profile where you've announced your unwavering love and dedication to Fall Out Boy and Pete Wentz, scroll down past the dozens of useless applications you've been tricked into downloading, past the so-called 'gifts' Facebook has the audacity to charge you $1 for, only to find that the alleged wall post is nowhere to be found!

The Wall is, in my opinion, one of the best features Facebook has to offer, and that's why it's so devastating when you get an email that gets your hopes up that someone has written on your wall, only to discover that it was a false alarm. Your emotions skyrocket and then when you find out the truth, your heart sinks into your stomach. It's such a let-down!

The cause of this phenomenon is clear: someone writes on your wall, the email notification is sent immediately, but then the alleged wall-poster deletes his or her comment, leaving the re-maturely sent notification sitting in your inbox, now void and invalid, and a cold, harsh reminder of your fleeting popularity.

Certainly, with all the money Facebook has spent on creating all those ridiculously irrelevant applications, there must be a dime left over somewhere that could be put toward fixing this excruciatingly annoying problem. It seems simple enough (granted I'm not computer programmer): the wall-poster deletes his comment, the email notification should also delete itself - automatically...

Now, how to get this suggestion to Zuckerberg.... He needs to know how many people's hearts he's broken with those cruel email notifications.

I HATE! Those Ignorant to Proper Sidewalk Etiquette

2008-06-02T15:12:00.000-07:00

I was under the impression that there was an established code of sidewalk etiquette, but in recent months, it has come to my attention that either a) such a code must not exist and I have been mistaken for all of these years or b) a code exists, but no one abides by it / knows about it.

How many times have I been minding my own business, walking down the street, bopping my head in time with an (undoubtedly embarrassing) song playing on my iPod, taking in the city landscape, when all of a sudden, the person walking in front of me stops abruptly in his or her tracks, blocking the sidewalk, but even more importantly, obstructing my path and interrupting my walking rhythm? The answer? More times than I can count. (Most of the time, I come to find the offender to be a tourist, stopping to snap a picture of the oh-so-(not)-amazing Trump Hotel or Time Warner Center, but regardless...)

The point of my ramblings here is this: common courtesy (which i am clearly a huge proponent of) would dictate that if you are going to stop abruptly to take a photograph or tie your shoe or pick your wedgie or WHATEVER, move your fat ass to the side of the sidewalk - don't stand in the middle of pedestrian traffic, essentially asking for someone to trip over you. This is (or at least should be) the code of the street.

And here's another bullet point under The Sidewalk Etiquette Code: just like cars drive on the right side of the road, so too should pedestrians walk on the right side of the sidewalk. If you abide by this, it eliminates any chance of pedestrian collisions. And in my case (since apparently I like to bob and weave through sidewalk crowds), if every pedestrian followed the Code guidelines, I could easily navigate the sidewalks without having the urge to shove wayward pedestrians out of my way in order to keep up my pace.

Other more minor notes on the Code:

Don't drift from one side of the sidewalk to another - this prevents people who want to pass you from doing so.
Keep up your walking pace - don't slow down and speed up - this is essentially like asking someone to run into your back or step on your heels.
Don't ride your bike / skateboard / scooter / Segway on the sidewalk - I will throw a stick or rock into your tire.
If you're a slow-walker, stay to the very right side of the sidewalk - you should virtually be sliding your body along the side of the store fronts to ensure that the faster walkers have room to pass you.
Do not unintentionally / intentionally hit passing pedestrians with your shopping bags / briefcase / umbrella - this is grounds for an immediate punch in the face... seriously I CANNOT STAND IT WHEN SOMEONE HITS ME IN THE FACE WITH HIS UMBRELLA.
Do not jokingly mess around with your friends while walking on a crowded sidewalk - if I get bumped into by a rowdy teenager, I will push back with Incredible Hulk-like strength.
Do not come out of a store / house / apartment, step out onto the sidewalk without looking both ways, jut out in front of another pedestrian, and essentially cut them off - it works the same way as it does when you're in a car; cutting people off is dangerous and can incite road rage or, in my case, sidewalk rage.

And I'm sure there are more, I'm forgetting to mention right now, but essentially, these are the main points of the Code and should be abided by, by all, with meticulous attention. This will undoubtedly make the world a better place. Thank you.

I HATE! Unrelenting Boredom Part Deux / Uno Floor Elevator Riders

2008-05-29T13:41:00.000-07:00

Sigh. So, this is Day Number of Two of unrelenting boredom. I really have exercised all of my Internet options - once again - and I'm fairly confidant in saying that I'm on top of my work load for the day. This might raise the question: 'If you're so bored, why don't you use the time to blog?' My answer to this is simple: I can only blog when I am inspired to do so i.e when something really gets me heated up to the point where I can essentially feel my blood boiling and am expecting it to burst forth from my body through any open and/or available orifice.

Luckily for you, today, I experienced one such surge of inspiration.

This afternoon, I was hastily riding the elevator (I'm not entirely sure you can ride an elevator hastily) downstairs to the cafeteria. The hour was 2:38 PM; the cafeteria closes daily at 3 PM, however, in typical jumping-the-gun fashion, the cafeteria staff usually begins removing all the food around 2:45 PM. (Now you see why I was trying to ride the elevator hastily.) Since it was a few hours past the usual lunch rush, I was hoping that no one would get on as I was going down. 17, 16, 15, keep going, keep going, 14, 13, almost in the clear, fingers crossed, 12, 11... and then it happens - someone gets on the elevator at the 10th floor... and GETS OFF ON THE 9th FLOOR!?!?!

Is that a joke? Who really takes the elevator one floor AND going down for Pete's sake?? I was so flabbergasted by this person's sheer laziness that I must have been standing there with my mouth hanging open. If I was going down one flight, or even up one flight, for that matter, I would take the stairs. For sure.

Clearly, I was so infuriated because I was rushing downstairs to get food before the cafe closed, but I was under the impression that elevator etiquette was an established code. Fewer than three floors? Take the stairs. More than three floors, by all means, take the elevator! Am I alone in this assumption? Have all those dirty looks I've given to people who took the elevator up or down less then three floors fallen by the wayside? Are others unaware of this code? Did I make this up?

No - I'm right - people are just lazy. And I hate it.

I HATE! Unrelenting Boredom

2008-05-28T14:12:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days where you're so bored that the Internet can't even keep you entertained? Well, that's what today has been like for me. After busying myself with several tasks this morning, I found that, by lunch time, I was out of things to do. Yes, out of things to do. For once, my office was calm. No phones were ringing. There was no one for me to assist. I organized. I cleaned. I even did the stuff I normally put off doing. I painted my nails for Christ's sake - in the office!

After killing time, making my way down to the cafeteria as slowly as humanly possible and leisurely walking back and forth in front of the salad bar a half dozen times, pondering whether to get the soup or the tortellini, I found myself back upstairs, sitting at my desk staring off into space while twirling my hair. What to do, what to do? I had checked my go-to gossip blogs only a few moments ago - nothing new to report. My news sites (one from each side of the political spectrum) were also, sadly, without updates. Nothing new on the AP wire? How is that even possible? No new emails - in any of my 4 email accounts. I even went ahead and deleted a bunch of old emails in an attempt to kill time while simultaneously trying to tidy up and be productive. I read the newspapers I usually save for my train home. I perused hundreds of photos of celebrities from the Cannes Film Festival and the Sex and the City movie premiere and internally critiqued each and every fashion choice. (Fabulous or fashion roadkill? It was all for me to decide!) I even went as far as to look up things I had always wondered about...just for kicks - i.e. how to cook an artichoke (I've been wondering about that for a while - and now I know!) I finally resorted to having Wiki present me with random articles. But alas, I still found myself laying my head down on my desk. Isn't it sad when the Internet - the world wide web for God's sake - can't even cure my boredom?

I must have had 7 cups of coffee just so I could venture down the hall to the pantry to kill some time. And get this - I even volunteered to go down the street to pick up my boss' prescriptions at the pharmacy! Clearly, you can imagine how desperate I was to get out of the office and away from the monotony of staring at the same news article about how a British boy managed to skewer himself on a set of dried-out shark teeth while sleepwalking on Foxnews.com.

I HATE! The Blocking of the Box

2008-05-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed those 'Don't Block the Box' signs? I sure have and let me tell you that I hate hate hate hate when people block the box! For those of you who are unaware of the meaning of 'Don't Block the Box', please see the visual below.

The 'Box' in this particular circumstance, refers to the actual area of intersection between two streets, usually flanked on all four sides by traffic lights. Often times, overzealous drivers will pull their cars too far into the intersection when the light is red, thus 'blocking' the aforementioned box and in the same swift motion, these cars block the crosswalk for pedestrians attempting to cross the street. See that X in the street sign above? That X signifies no entry into that zone. And those dozens of little lines all situated right next to each other? Those represent the pedestrian crosswalks - PEDESTRIAN CROSSWALKS - they are not meant to be occupied by vehicles stopped at the red light.

Not very difficult to comprehend, right? Wrong! I can't even tell you how many times I've tried to cross the street, but have been unsuccessful because my efforts have been thwarted by overzealous drivers that pull up into the intersection! Jesus! Pulling all the way up into the intersection is not going to make the red light turn green any faster. You're not going to shave off more than a few seconds from your commute by racing up the light and slamming on your breaks. I promise that you will still get through the intersection when the light finally does turn green, even if you pull up (god forbid!) behind the crosswalk instead of in the middle of the intersection.

You may be thinking - 'Elizabeth, why is this such a big deal? You don't have a car in New York City! Why are you bemoaning this so?' Let me assure you, oh patient reader, this is a big deal. As a faithful New York City pedestrian and frequent cross-walker, I find it appalling, and frankly, fucking ANNOYING, when cars sit at a light in the middle of the cross walk. Not only is it dangerous for other drivers coming in the perpendicular direction, but it eradicates any safe place for pedestrians to cross the street. And, it's really f-ing annoying to have to weave in and out in between cars just to get to the other side of the street.

I have been very tempted, when being forced to weave in between the various vehicles blocking my crosswalk, to bang on people's hoods and/or throw rocks at people's windshields. And I've come damn close let me tell you.

I HATE! Skunk Hair

2008-05-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

Do you know what I really hate?

No - not Amy Winehouse impersonators (although I just noticed the chic in the picture is so obviously attempting to replicate (a low-rent version of) the trainwreck / singer) - I hate Skunk Hair. Skunk Hair is what I refer to the - I guess it's an emo look - hairstyle in which some chunks of hair, usually the under layers, are dyed dark brown or black, and the top layers are dyed white or bleach-blond, resulting in the interesting effect modeled by our fake Ms. Winehouse. I hate this hairstyle - and really for no other reason than the fact that it's hideous. This look is not attractive in any way. Why would you want your hair to look like an oreo cookie, a cow, a converse all-star, a newspaper...? I could go on.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the original point of dying your hair was to make it all one color - women with greying hair could rejoice and return their stray grey strands to their natural color. How did the use of hair dye evolve so? Who deemed Skunk Hair acceptable? Where did this trend originate and why? Was it an accident? Perhaps a young emo child decided to welcome the sun into his life and opted to bleach his angsty jet-black hair to a sunny blond. Perhaps he could not recruit anyone to help him, so he tried to bleach his hair himself. And perhaps, it didn't work out so well and he ended up missing a few spots and looking like a sad, sad Dalmatian. Huh?

Although I think the more likely possibility is that some egomaniac concocted the most hideous hairstyle he could think of just to see if people would mindlessly mimic it.

I HATE! Crowded Subways

2008-05-20T10:43:00.000-07:00

OMG! This morning, I experienced my worst nightmare. Let me take a deep breath before I continue. This was truly a harrowing and traumatic experience.

By now, you probably know that I do not like being touched by strangers, having to touch strangers, rubbing up against strangers, being in any sort of close proximity to strangers etc. etc. I am easily skeeved when someone inadvertently brushes up against me on the street / in passing for 5 seconds. When a stranger's extremity leans /brushes / touches / sits / rests upon any part of me for more than those quasi-tolerable 5 seconds, I can't help but lose my mind. And this morning (ugh - I shudder to reflect on it), I traveled uptown on the 4 /5 train - one which, normally, I don't have to take (and thank god because it's always so damn crowded!) - for a doctor's appointment. The ride up to the appointment was relatively uneventful, except the train was very crowded, but I expected it to be so and therefore, it was bearable. The way back, however, was vomit-inducing.

The train was even more crowded then it was on the way uptown, but I took a deep breath, grinned (ok, i didn't grin - if you must know, I put on an angry face), and bore it... that is, until people continued to try to force themselves into the already-packed train at each and every subsequent stop. After jockeying for a better position holding onto one of the bars above the seated (lucky bastards) train patrons, and one that didn't include my face being smushed into the bossom of an abnormally tall amazon-esque woman, I, all of sudden, felt... (I can't even bring myself to conjure up the image / feeling again) someone else's ass pressing against mine. The moment I felt it, I tried to move to the right, to the left, anywhere I could to prevent the asses from pressing against each other. I swear to God, when I moved, the other ass moved along with mine. It's as if the stupid guy had squeezed himself in between my ass and some other passenger's body and could only mimic our movements due to lack of mobility. I couldn't escape the ass on ass! (Side note: was I possibly being sexually harassed, but just didn't realize it? Discuss.) I wanted to die! It was horrible. I tried to inch forward, closer to the knees of the people sitting in the seats below me, but I couldn't manage to do that without pressing my legs against the row of stranger-knees.

Let me just interject here that I hate being touched by strangers' arms, legs, backs, heads, feet, knees, etc., but being touched by someone else's butt, even if it's clothed, is truly unbearable. I honestly thought I could feel my skin crawling from sheer disgust.

Anyway - back to the story.

So I was freaking out - and I mean freaking. I was trapped with nowhere to go! I keep trying to angrily turn around and 'accidentally' nudge the dude that belonged to the offending ass, but he wouldn't turn around! I then tried to 'accidentally' loose my grip on the bar and 'bump' (ok - it was more like a plow) into his back with my elbows. Unfortunately for me, none of my usual attention-getting tactics worked and he continued his tour of obliviousness!

After trying several discreet (and not-so-discreet) defensive maneuvers, some silent gagging, and the welling up of a few tears, the ass-offender (thankfully!) got off the train leaving me and my ass alone. On his way off the train, I did notice that the ass-guy had been the same one who had struggled to squeeze himself into the train when there most-definitely was no room for him.

Ass! (Haha - no pun intended!) Clearly this fellow does not know anything about train etiquette! Let's hope I don't ever bump into him again. I may have to kill him.

I HATE! Going on Coffee Runs

2008-05-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

Can I take a vote on this? Being asked to get on a coffee run for (someone in) your office is one of the most demeaning and degrading requests. If you've ever been an intern (or in my case, a lowly assistant), you know what I'm talking about. Being asked to go on a coffee run for someone is equivalent to someone saying to you: 'You're beneath me and I don't feel like getting up and doing this myself.' When I'm asked to get coffee for someone else, whether it be down the hall from the office coffee machine or across the street from Starbucks, I want to scream - even if you ask me in the sweetest, most polite way.

Frankly, it's insulting. Getting coffee for someone is comparable to cleaning up someone else's mess. Unless, I am already out of the office (and near one of Starbucks' 2,390,478,239,048 locations) or making a trip down the hall to the pantry and offer to get you coffee, asking me to go and get you a cup of coffee is like a slap in the face. I'm already running around catering to everyone else's needs - asking me to get you coffee is basically forcing me into indentured servitude. I can't say no - because you're my boss - but it pains me to have to do it. Every time I'm asked to do this, I can feel my face muscles tighten up into an angry snarl, and no matter how much I attempt to hide my disdain, it is displayed across my face. If I ever am in the position where asking someone else to get my coffee for me is an option, I never, ever will. Swear.

I HATE! Sheep

2008-05-16T12:09:00.000-07:00

Have you ever walked into a shopping mall, perhaps in the suburbs (and I'm not discriminating against the suburbs here, but it's just that this trend seems to have garnered the most support in non-city locales), and instantly noticed that every teen girl you encounter looks exactly the same?

Ok - so, if you're confused about the title of this post, let me clarify that I'm not talking about actual sheep here. (Who could hate sheep? They look so soft and comfy!) The term 'sheep' is what my mother and (non-conformist) 16-year-old sister use to refer to the unfortunate uniform-esque look that so many teenage girls have adopted without thought. Specifically, when traveling in packs, this phenomenon makes it impossible to identify an individual girl in the mass of stick-straight hair and head-to-toe Abercrombie / American Eagle. Hence the term sheep - each and every one of them look the same.

I find the term sheep hilarious, and hence, have decided to write angerly about it, because in the fashion melting pot that is New York City, these so-called 'sheep' stick out like a sore thumb after being slammed in a car door over and over again. So in my case, I can spot a 'sheep' - complete with thermal half-button down Abercrombie top emblazoned with the unmistakable moose logo, faded and rhinestoned American Eagle jeans with strategically-placed pre-ripped knee, Uggs, and stick-straight flat-ironed hair - a mile away, as if they had been tragically stolen away from their native habitat and dropped helpless and alone into a foreign setting.

I mean, I understand wanting to fit in with your friends, but isn't becoming a carbon copy of every other girl in Middle America a tad overkill? Seriously girls - you look foolish. No one's going to appreciate your uncanny ability to look exactly like your friends after you hit the 17 year-old mark. If you're a typical teenage girl and acceptance is the most coveted thing since the Ugg boot, spare yourself the horror that will inevitably surface within you during the first couple of weeks of college when you realize that being an Abercrombie robo-clone doesn't fly anymore.

To be honest, when I see a flock of sheep walking toward me, I want to laugh. It's 100% pathetic that you have to loose every ounce of your individualism to retain your friends. I wonder what would happen if one sheep strayed from the pack and, gasp - god forbid, bought something at a store other than Abercrombie! Would she be cast out of the group? Would she be shunned by the opposite sex? Would her parents disown her? No! The only thing that might be derived from this situation is that one member of the group might finally step out of the collective shadow and be noticed as an individual.

Not quite ready (or brave enough) to shed the Middle America Mall Attire? Here's a suggestion: maybe keep the Abercrombie top, but pair it with a sassy skirt (Side Note: I can't believe I just wrote the word 'sassy', but it just seemed to flow through my fingertips and onto the screen) or wear the perfectly-manufactured jeans with a unique tee-shirt (read: one that not everyone else you know has in another color) and sneakers. Ignore the fact that I sound like the moderator for a kiddy fashion show at Sears - you see my point: it's easy to incorporate a few 'sheep' pieces into your wardrobe without completely succumbing to the teeny-bopper fashion set (and without being cast out of your group for straying from the dress code).

I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I showed up at school wearing the same outfit as someone else, I was embarrassed - not pleased. Maybe times have changed since I was in high school, maybe now it's cool to look exactly like the girl that sits behind you in English class. I realize this post was a bit of a diatribe, but seriously, Abercrombie uses child labor, the clothes are made from the cheapest materials possible, and frankly, nothing in the store is that cute. We're talking Abercrombie here, not couture!

Disclaimer: Before I get called out, I am freely admitting that I owned those chunky Steve Madden sandals that every other girl in high school at the time had. In fact, I had them in black and brown.

I HATE! Trashy, Teeny-Bopper Stores

2008-05-12T14:24:00.000-07:00

A comment left by my dear friend Julie on the post regarding Perez Hilton being given his own line from Hot Topic made me come to the realization that I didn't direct any of my attention to the fact that Perez's line will be debuting at Hot Topic. Hot Topic. First of all, Hot Topic? Does that store even exist anymore? I could have sworn that Hot Topic disappeared in the 90s along with wallet chains and mesh tank tops (apparently no one's told Amy Winehouse). But I did some research and discovered that Hot Topic is indeed still alive and kicking. And I have this to say: go ahead and design a line for Hot Topic, Perez, inflate your ego a little bit more, go ahead - you're essentially sealing your own coffin. I wonder if he checked out the website before signing on the dotted line. The dude relentlessly ridicules Shauna Sand, Brooke Hogan, and Britney Spears for the trashy clothing choices they make, but the store he just endorsed basically sells apparel for the strippers-in-training set.

Example One

Courtesy of the Hot Topic Collection

What I'm essentially trying to say here is that Hot Topic falls into the category that stores like Joyce Leslie, Mandee, DEB, and Wet Seal fall into, although the Hot Topic brand seems to be a little more goth. These stores sell glorified stripper-wear under the guise that it's trendy and fashionable. Pleather, glitter, nylon, and mesh are not fashionable (never have been!) nor are they age-appropriate for the demographic that these stores market to.

The clothes that these stores sell are cheaply made and the shoddy construction is obvious. I cringe anytime I see a gaggle of teeny-bopper girls running around decked out in Wet Seal's finest. I tend to steer clear of stores that specialize in all things plastic, stretchy, and shiny. These materials generally do not exude class, but apparently, 15-year-old girls from Middle America haven't yet caught on. Wet Seal must have one hell of a PR guy - no matter how cheaply made and shoddily-constructed the store's garments are, the tweens keep on coming in - in droves.

I understand that Wet Seal or Mandee may be a cheaper alternative to overly-expensive trendy stores that cater to to the teeny-bopper set like Anthropologie, Armani Exchange, and Diesel. But there is a way to go inexpensive without looking like a $2 a-night-child prostitute. Ever heard of The Gap or H&M? The ratio of pleather to cotton at either of these two stores is far smaller than at Hot Topic / Wet Seat / Mandee / Joyce Leslie. And I'm pretty sure the prices are comparable - not that I've been into a Joyce Leslie since freshman year in college when I purchased a 100% polyester plaid kilt with an up-to-there hemline to wear as part of my naughty Catholic school girl Halloween costume. And for the record, I would just like to say that I only ventured into Joyce Leslie because it was around the corner from my dorm and I had less than two hours to throw together the costume.

Anyway, all I am saying here is that there really is no excuse to patronize any of the aforementioned stores - unless you are deliberately trying to go for the baby prostitute look. See below for more examples.

Example Two

Courtesy of the Mandee Collection

Example Three

Courtesy of the Wet Seal Collection

I HATE! 80s Slouchy Boots

2008-05-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

Above is a particularly hideous example of the what I like to call to 80s Slouchy Boots. Surprise surprise! I hate 80s Slouchy Boots! This is not going to be a very lengthy post because, for this particular topic, I really have no good reason behind my hatred. I just think 80s Slouchy Boots are disgusting. The way the slouch falls and gathers around the wearer's ankle, the ambiguity generated from the kind of rounded / kind of pointed toe, the heinous kitten heel - I can't pinpoint just one reason why these particualr boots offend me so; I think it's the combination of the aforementioned characteristics that repulses me.

And you might say, 'Liz, come on - you're being dramatic. They're just shoes; how could you really hate them so much?' And, in response, I would say(probably in a pretty snippy way) that shoes make the man and that walking around New York City, I see hundreds of pairs of these atrocities EVERY SINGLE DAY. I could not escape them if I tried. It's as if every hipster girl walking around the city has decided to flaut their boots in my face to make me uncomfortable. And yes, these boots do make me uncomfortable.

I HATE! White People with Dreadlocks

2008-05-08T10:17:00.001-07:00

So I can't believe I didn't think about this earlier - I really hate white people who wear their hair in dreads. And I'm going to get right to the point here and not dilly-dally around the root of the issue. Dreads on white people are really gross because the texture of white people's hair makes their hair look dirty more or less after one day of not washing it. That's the reality. The texture just does not accommodate this look. If you're white and you wear dreads, your hair will inevitably look dirty, greasy, and unkempt (I get that that's kind of the intention with dreadlocks, but white people hair looks particuarly bad when left unbrushed for 11 months.)

I, for one, could never wear dreads, even if I wanted to, because (let me give you an example) my hair will be dirty by the time I wake up in the morning even if I've washed it the night before. So just imagine what that would look like a million times over: pretty grim, isn't it? By the time my hair would even form the dreads (if it could even do that is debatable because my hair is so freaking thin), there would most definitely be animals or insects nesting there and/or an oil slick would have developed. It's really an unattractive concept.

And I am all for self-expression, etc., but I also can't help feeling that white people with dreads are trying to present an image of themselves as something that they're not. Disagree if you will, but most of the whities with dreads that I've met have all turned out to be HUGE posers. Maybe it's just those few who sully the good name for the rest of the white-dread-wearers; maybe not, but I am going to stand firm on my belief that white people should stay away from dreads at all cost. There's just something icky about it - both to look at and the general vibe that it gives off.

I HATE! Shit That is Fucking Ridiculous

2008-05-08T09:42:00.001-07:00

So I just read the Perez Hilton, the self-absorbed gossip blogger turned 'celebrity' (in his own mind), has just been offered the opportunity to design a line of clothes for Hot Topic. GIVE ME A MOTHERFUCKING BREAK! Have you seen the things that this fellow wears out? He looks like a walking balloon animal. I hope to the heavens that no one buys this line. If anyone does they'll only be adding another dimension to Perez's already-overstuffed, pompous, and inflated ego. I will also mention that the dude has absolutely no design or fashion credentials. Apparently (according to an article from OK Magazine: http://www.okmagazine.com/news/view/6461), this line is "a natural next step" for Perez (who's real name is Mario Lavandeira, which, in my opinion, is a much better name than Perez Hilton - could he be any more desperate to be a celebrity/socialite?) because he has a "good eye for what's hot and what's not." Oh my goodness, I am going to vomit. He has got to be kidding! If the offer had been extended by a store any more reputable than Hot Topic, I would be forced to riot. I think I'm going to need to sit in front of the toilet for a little while. That is all.

Example Numero Uno

Example Numero Dos

I HATE! Dirty Clean Dishes

2008-05-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

When I moved into my very first apartment last summer, I specifically remember one of my roommates (we'll call her Coco) telling me on the sly that the other roommate (we'll call her Muffy) didn't know how to do dishes.' And I assumed that that meant that Muffy just never did them - that she was one of those people who would simply leave her dishes in the sink until someone else would get annoyed that the sink was filled with dirty dishes and do them on her behalf. While this would certainly have been annoying, I later found out that Coco meant that the Muffy actually did not know how to properly wash a dish.

I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that every single dish that I found in our cupboards (and that I did not wash myself) was dirty even though it was supposed to be clean. I don't know what to do! I wasn't going to re-wash all the dishes in the cabinent and I certainly did not feel like re-washing each dish before I went to use it.

Perhaps I am mistaken, but I was under the impression that washing a dish was a pretty simple concept. All you need to do is wet the dish, soap it up via sponge, Brillo pad, scrubbing brush, or whatever your dish-washing weapon of choice may be, scrub off all of the caked-on food, and then rinse under the faucet. Apparently this concept must not be as easy to handle as I had originally thought as I continued to reach into the cabinent and pull out bowls with caked on macaroni, plates sprinkled with green crud, and cups covered in water and soap stains.

First of all, this is gross and second of all, if you're going to wash a dish half-assed, you might as well not wash it at all because when food's been stuck to and dried on a dish for days on end, there's not much hope in getting it off.

Needless to say, I stopped eating at the apartment.

I HATE! Celebrities Who Think They Can Design Clothes Just Because They're Celebrities

2008-05-01T13:44:00.000-07:00

Just because you're a celebrity does not mean that you have the chops to design a good clothing line. I feel like every day we hear about a new celebrity who has been given carte blanche by some dumb company to create their own clothing, shoe, or jewelery line. This drives me absolutely crazy! Celebrity does not automatically equal good designer. A good designer has gone to design school and has learned about fit, patterns, wearability, practically, and materials.

What do you know about design Heidi Montag, Amanda Bynes, Jennifer Lopez or Paris Hilton? Clearly nothing. Has anyone ever taken a peek at the so-called fashion line Just Sweet designed by J. Lo? Everything in the line looks like it was carved out of the same huge piece of shiny purple polyester. I had the unfortunate experience of accidentally brushing up against one of J. Lo's polyester tent dresses and instantaneously developed a rash from the sheer cheapness of the fabric.

Paris Hilton's shoe line? Even though I understand that women with larger feet often have trouble finding shoes in their size (a good idea in theory, Paris), let's be real here: a stripper wouldn't even wear Paris' shoes. The line boasts enough Lucite to put the dressing room at Scores to shame.

And we all heard the reviews of Heidi Montag's (who, by the way, I refuse to admit is a celebrity - waste of space is more like it) line Heidiwood, haven't we? An excerpt from New York Magazine:

"No self-respecting grown woman should allow herself to be seen in these garments. Only two of the twelve items have sleeves, and just one — a pair of jeans — extends past mid-thigh. In fact, only one other thing extends past the upper thigh: a dress that would have been mildly acceptable had it not been made from the kind of cotton you usually only see on Target’s discount panties."

Believe you me, that wasn't even the worst of it. There's a reason why your clothes are only sold at Anchor Blue, Heidi: they're shiteous. Truly heinous. I would compare the quality to Joyce Leslie, Mandee, or Wet Seal. But what's worse, Heidiwood boasts overpriced versions of clothes found at Joyce Leslie, Mandee, and Wet Seal. And as the writers of the above NY Mag article noted, no self-respecting woman would be caught dead in anything from the Heidiwood collection. The reviews might seem harsh, but if you had gone to design school before attempting to 'design' your own line, the clothes would probably have been launched to better reviews.

Maybe so many celebrities are given their own clothing lines because so many people try to emulate the way celebrities dress. But I'll let you in on a little secret: celebrities are dressed by stylists. Celebrities' styles are created by stylists. Celebrities don't dress themselves! The stylists should be the ones given the clothing lines. They know about fashion! They're stylists!

And another question: do we actually think that the celebrities would where their own lines? Absolutely not! And you want to know why? Because celebrity lines are watered-down, cheaply-made versions of the clothes they wear. We're talking obvious emulations of last season's Dolce & Gabanna, Fendi, and Marc Jacobs designs that celebrity stylists picked out for stars to wear several award shows ago. The celebrity is not concerned with creating well-designed, good quality clothes; a hastily-designed clothing line allows a celebrity to add the title of 'designer' to their resume. You better believe that that's the only reason celebrities do it.

I HATE! Denim on Denim

2008-04-29T12:05:00.000-07:00

I have long since known that wearing denim on denim is a crime of fashion. I did not know, however, that there is an official name for this unacceptable practice. Apparently, it's been dubbed the Canadian Tuxedo, which sounds awful even if you don't know what it is.

But alas, I digress. Let me get back on point. The Canadian Tuxedo was suggested to me as a topic I might like to write about (i.e. something I might like to hate) by a dear friend of mine who has been living in Ireland for the past two years or so. I guess I'm to gather that many Irishmen (and don't get me wrong, I would never ever diss my own heritage) have fallen victim to this trend. Perhaps that's why she suggested it? Although, judging from the sheer horrendousness of it (see picture at left - we all remember the 2001 American Music Awards, but unfortunately not for the music or the winners), I would have assumed that this abomination was American-specific.

Regardless, this is definitely something that has been on my radar. Denim on demin, even if the denim matches exactly, is never acceptable. Why wear so much denim? Why not diversify? No one is going to want to look at you if you're wearing the equivalent of a denim jumpsuit. No one is going to know where to look if you're wearing denim from head to toe. It's not just natural. Even the cowboys intermingled a plaid shirt here and there.

And don't even get me started on wearing UN-MATCHING denim on denim. There is no excuse for this. There's nothing I can even say to justify such a thing. This just shouldn't happen. Ever. If you're wearing one wash / color / shade of denim on the bottom, refrain from wearing the jean jacket of a different wash / color / shade. I'm sure there's something else in your closet - another alternative. How about some nice paisly or plaid or gingham? Anything would be preferable to an un-coorindated denim jacket or shirt.

Let me just explain where the problem lies exactly because I'm not sure I'm being 100% clear. When you wear two different washes of denim, a light wash jean jacket with dark denim jeans for example, you look like you were trying to match, but failed miserably. It just looks trashy. You look straight out of the 80s and I think this is a trend, unlike old-school Ray Bans for example, that we never ever want to be reincarnated. And especially if you're wearing a head-to-toe denim get-up and living and/or visiting New York City, you're basically screaming 'I'm a tourist from some bumblefuck town in the Mid-West, please ridicule me mercilessly, rob me, and strip me of dignity.'

So the moral of the story is that unless you're a cowboy that actually needs to wear a matching denim suit for ranching purposes (and even if you are and you do, you should change before leaving the house to attend a public function), then there is absolutely no need to ever wear denim on both halves of your body.

I HATE! Slow Walkers

2008-04-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

I just noticed that I am a member of a Facebook group called 'I Want to Punch Slow Walking People in the Head'. And it's totally true. I would indeed like to punch slow-walkers in the back of the head. I don't know what it is about slow things that I hate, but I really do seem to abhor them, don't I? First slow drivers and now this.

But make no mistake; this is no fly-by-night hatred that I'm expressing here. I have always hated people who walk too slow. That's probably because I am always in a rush. I am also a speed walker and slow-walkers just get in my way when I'm trying to get somewhere fast - which, as we just discussed, is always.

My opinion on this issue is similar to my opinion on slow drivers. Be slow, that's fine, but don't obstruct other people's paths in the process. Stay along the side of the sidewalk or street and allow others to pass you. Don't meander along, zig-zagging as if you're the only pedestrian on the New York City sidewalks. People are trying to get around you!

I really hate when I'm stuck behind a slow-walker, but can't go around them because there is an equally slow person coming toward you on the opposite side of the sidewalk. I feel trapped! I get panicky! If you're going to mosey along, just stick to the right side of the sidewalk. It works the same way it works when you're in a car; you stay to the right side of the road, and if you choose to pass, you, momentarily as you pass, move into the left lane to do so. For some reason, on the sidewalks, people feel as if they have license to go back and forth between the different sides of the sidewalk - NO! People seriously have a great deal of difficulty adhering to the simple unspoken rules of the concrete jungle. Everyone knows you're supposed to stay on the right hand side of the sidewalk, but most do not abide by this. Why? How hard is it to do this?????

Side note: If you're walking along and you suddenly stop, I am probably going to walk into you (on purpose). Don't stop suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. For example, if you were in a car and you suddenly braked, the person behind you would most certainly rear-end you and fuck up your car...badly. Use that as your model. If you must stop to admire the view, tie your shoe, or scratch your ass, move over to the side and GET OUT OF THE MOTHERFUCKING WAY!

I HATE! People Who Walk Around with Bluetooth Earpieces in Their Ears When They're Not on the Phone

2008-04-24T09:26:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I haven't blogged about this yet. I've said this before, but I really mean it this time; people who walk around with bluetooth earpieces in their ears even they're not on the phone may be the thing I hate most in the world. Seriously. I get instantaneously enraged when I catch a glimpse of someone walking around with one of those things in their ears - especially if they're not even using it to talk on the phone. It's pathetic, isn't it?

My theory about the recent emergence and influx of the bluetooth earpiece is that super busy business people started using them while driving, walking, exercising - to make multitasking easier and less dangerous. But then people who aren't super busy and aren't important realized that if they wore the earpiece as well, they would also come across to others as super busy and important.

But what I want to emphasize here is that the earpiece DOESN'T MAKE YOU LOOK IMPORTANT! A middle-aged man wearing an 'I Love NY' tee-shirt and Hawaiian print shorts does not automatically transform into a VIP when he slips on the earpiece. It doesn't work like that. The earpiece doesn't have magical powers.

If you must earpiece and are not, in fact, a business person (I will admit that the earpiece leaves both hands open and available to do other things), take it off of your ear once your finished talking! Don't leave it there! You look foolish!

You're a 25 year old Guido trying to sweet-talk a lady? You look foolish with that thing in your ear! You're a 45 year old soccer mom with 4 kids hanging from each of your limbs? You look idiotic with that earpiece on! Your a 30 year old foreign tourist trying to navigate your way through NYC? Take that thing out of your ear right this minute; you are not fooling anyone into thinking you are some important foreign dignitary!

NO!

I'm not sure what exactly it is about this that makes me crazy, but I almost want to run up to everyone I see wearing a bluetooth earpiece and rip it out of their ear and throw it as far as I can. Maybe it's because, when using the earpiece inappropriately, people are basically trying to masquerade as someone or something that they're not. And that really makes me crazy.

I HATE! Unibrows

2008-04-18T15:07:00.000-07:00

The above is a still from the footage CNN took from inside the Mormon compound in Texas, right after all the children had been taken and put into protective custody. While this is a very serious issue, that is obviously not what I intend to blog about. I would like everyone out there (all 2 of you) to guess, judging from the above photo, what I will be blogging about today.

You guessed it... the UNIBROW! I will admit that I hate the unibrow and half love it. The thought of having one long eyebrow is so amusing to me that I would possibly be willing to put aside all (or a little bit) of my hatred for it. I think, maybe the line between my love and hate for the unibrow, in fact, depends on whether the wearer of 'the brow' is male or female.

If the wearer is a woman, she is obviously a pimp because if you are a woman and don't know that women should never ever ever have a unibrow, then you're totally living in your own isolated little bubble (i.e. polygamist compound in Texas) and don't care about societal norms and more power to your for defying the modern-day expectations. I mean, I would never sport the uni, but I respect the woman who has the courage to walk around with what looks to be a caterpillar taking a nap on her brow bone.

On the other side of this argument, which I admit is 100% sexist by the way, there is the man who sports the uni - unacceptable! NO woman is attracted to a guy with a unibrow (which is not to say that men are actually attracted to women with unibrows), but seriously fellows, just because you're a guy and you are usually less hygienic then your female counterparts, does not mean you can walk around without tweezing. It's very necessary.

Take this scenario for example: Two of my friends and I were in a pub in Ireland, imbibing an laughing, when we were approached by a nice Irish fellow with the WORST UNIBROW I HAVE EVER SEEN. It was straight across, not even a little less hair in the middle - it was completely the same thickness ALL THE WAY ACROSS. Of course he tried to hit on one of the girls I was with and of course, she couldn't even bare to look to him because of the brow. There was a chance that he could have been a decent-looking fellow if he had had two brows instead of one, but no one could see past the brow. We just laughed and laughed even though we tried not to. And the poor fellow probably had no idea why we were cackling like hyenas. We weren't even trying to be mean, but how can you seriously try to approach a girl with a brow like that? Seriously??

And the thing is, it's very easy to fix a unibrow. All you need is some tweezers. It may a take awhile, but it's as easy as plucking those stray hairs (or thick bush, whatever may the case be) away!

And if the solution is this simple, doesn't that mean there's no excuse for a uni?

I HATE! People with Dumb Nicknames

2008-04-18T13:18:00.000-07:00

This is a post inspired by a particular 'friend' of a dear friend of mine. While I have never met this fellow, I dislike him an incredible amount as I do not approve of the way he speaks to this friend of mine. I also recall that he once ran away from my friend because he was chasing down one of his equally idiotic friends who had stolen his pizza - or something along those lines. Regardless, I am not writing to say that I hate him. I hate the fact that this fellow has one of the dumbest nicknames of all time. If someone called me what he is called all the time, I would move to another state and make a fresh start. It's that bad.

I will not reveal this fellow's real name or even his real nickname, but I will give you a comparable example. Let's say, for example, that this fellow's real name is John Jimmy Dean; his nickname, if created using the same process as the real-life nickname, would therefore be Sausagey. The real fellow has a nickname just as dumb and derived in a similarly retarded fashion.

So basically this kid's friends, girlfriends, and probably parents all call him Sausagey. Sausagey! Can you believe it? I hope to God that he doesn't think this is a cool nickname. I hope he doesn't take pride in being called it. I hope, for his sake (and I'm not even trying to be nice here), that the nickname fades as he grows into adulthood. If I had someone in my office nicknamed Sausagey, I would loose my shit every time I had to talk to him. I couldn't take him seriously. Hell, I don't think anyone takes him seriously now!

The message of this post is thus: if your name requires that a nickname be created in it's place, please make it funny or witty or at least not completely idiotic. I don't want to associate myself with anyone named Sausagey - or anyone with a similar nickname. It makes me look bad. And you? Forget about it, Sausagey!

I HATE! When People Use Words They Don't Know the Meaning Of

2008-04-18T11:43:00.000-07:00

Teenage girl #1: What did he say?
Teenage girl #2: He just texted me back "touché". Everyone always says that, what does that mean anyway?
Teenage girl #1: Ummm...I think it's like "true that!"

--Nail Salon, Park Slope

The above excerpt from my very favorite website, Overheardinnewyork.com, as used as my dear friend Julie's AIM away message yesterday, reminded me of something I hate (surprise!): people who use words they don't know the meaning of or people who use words in the wrong context. I am certainly not saying that I have never done this before - as small child (I was, in fact, a small child once), I had an expansive vocabulary, but hardly ever used any of the big words I knew in the right context. Pertinent was one of my faves - you can imagine how many ways I found to butcher that one.

My point is that if you're a grown adult, and you don't know the meaning of a word, don't use it while speaking. If you use it in the wrong context, you will sounds like an idiot. Make no mistake about that. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard people use words at inappropriate times and you know that they're only using them in the first place because they think the use of large vocabulary words will make them sound more intelligent. Wrong!

One of the first things I learned in journalism school was that the general population doesn't understand big words and using them in news pieces and articles only confuses viewers / readers. This rule of thumb applies to everyone. You can get your point across effectively using simple vocabulary and if you do this, chances are you won't misuse a word and sound like a complete idiot. And we all know that when you sound like an idiot, no one will take you seriously. Case in point: both my high school and my college were filled to the brim with folks who used big words to fill in where their actual thoughts left off. Classes were filled with students' long-winded comments littered with many mentions of words like erroneously, posthumously, antithesis, and eradicate.

Additionally, using overly complicated and long-winded words when unnecessary makes you sounds pretentious. And generally, no one appreciates or wants to listen to a puffed-up, self-promoting asshole. See example below:

Normal Sentence: Thank you for donating to our charity.

Pretentious or Just-Plain-Stupid Asshole Sentence: I would like to express my immense gratitude for your thoughtful and generous beneficence to our charitable organization.

See the difference? If you want to use complicated words, write a research paper or submit to a literary journal, but don't use that pompous vocabulary in every day conversation, especially if you secretly have no idea what the word you're using means. You're going to get your spot blown up.

I HATE! When People De-Friend You on Facebook

2008-04-17T13:39:00.000-07:00

I was a little hesitant to write on this particular topic because I don't really like to broadcast to the world how truly important Facebook is to my life. I'm a little embarrassed of how much time I spend (unintentionally) stalking people through Facebook.

The reason I bring this up is because, yesterday, I was perusing Facebook, just looking around, not cruising for any particular information on any particular person, when I stumbled upon the profile of an old flame. Actually, I didn't stumble upon it; Facebook now has a feature that shows you people you might know based on all the other people you're friends with (creeps, right?). So anyway, this fellow's picture popped up on the right-hand corner of my screen and I couldn't help myself, so I friended him. It wasn't until after I clicked the affirmative button to the question that said "Are you sure you want to friend so-and-so?", that I realized that we actually had previously been friends on Facebook (during our so-called affair), and that he had, in fact, de-friended me after things had ended kind of badly. Basically that "Are you sure?" button is there to prevent people from doing the exact idiotic thing that I had just done.

Then it occurred to me: de-friending someone on Facebook is low. Really low. You have to really really hate someone to de-friend them on Facebook, which is why I have decided that de-friending is definitely not an OK thing to do. It's just totally unnecessary. I remember when I noticed that I had been de-friended by the aforementioned boy; I was crushed and not because I was heart-broken over the end of our "romance". (OK, actually I will admit that that was, in fact, part of the reason why I was so upset, but that's not the point here!) But I wondered, did I disgust him so much that he couldn't even stand to look at my name when it popped up on his Mini Feed? Did he hate me to such a degree that he hated getting a notification that I had changed my profile picture?

De-friending someone on Facebook is the equivalent to saying: "I hate you. Never speak to me again. Your face repulses me." It's harsh! And unless, you really really mean it, you should never do it. It can leave scars.

I HATE! People Who Don't Curb Their Dogs

2008-04-16T12:51:00.000-07:00

I am in a particularly foul mood today. My apartment search has basically hit a brick wall and I'm freaking out in a major way. Therefore, I need to find something completely unrelated to bitch about in order to distract myself from thinking about my real problems. What? There's nothing wrong with this; it helps me get my aggression out in a healthy way. The alternative, non-healthy way? Beating someone up.

Anyway, I took a little trip to Dublin, Ireland (with my two future roommates actually - well, they'll only be my future roommates only if we find an apartment, and that looks like a grim prospect at the moment) and while we were there, I noticed a pretty repulsive trend. Nobody curbed their dogs; seriously, there was dog... excrement... everywhere. (Notice my hesitation here - there is something you should definitely know about me - i hate discussing poop and from now on I will refer to the aforementioned substance as DP.) Anyway, I'm talking DP all over the sidewalks. It looked like it had rained DP. It was heinous. You practically had to hop, skip, and jump your way down the street in order to avoid stepping in a big pile of DP. Seriously, I am very squeamish around DP, well actually P is general, but especially DP and the constant presence of DP on the sidewalks and streets of Dublin was just a little too much for me to handle. I couldn't figure out why no one thought letting their digs shit everywhere wasn't an issue. It's totally gross!

So that brings to mind another thing I hate - when people don't curb their dogs. Come on folks! It's a common courtesy. I realize I talk a lot about common courtesy, but really, this is one of those things that you shouldn't even have to wonder whether to do or not. It should be instinctual. No one wants to have to haphazardly navigate the sidewalks just to avoid stepping in your dog's P!

And I don't even want to get into the horror that is stepping in DP - this may in fact be one of the worst things ever! This has happened to me several times in the past and each time, I want to burn the shoes that were unfortunately sacrificed to the DP and then curl up into a ball and cry. I hate DP and I hate ruining a pair of shoes. And this circumstance causes me to face both atrocities. Ah! I can't even think about it anymore. I'm starting to feel nauseous.

The moral of the story is: clean up after your dogs, people! If you're going to insist on having them in the first place, do right by society and clean up after them. I know picking up DP with a plastic-bag-covered hand is gross, but dogs are gross. Deal with it. You can't have your cake and eat it too.

I HATE! Household Pets

2008-04-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

Let me first clarify, I actually don't hate all household pets, or even all animals for that matter. Once upon a time (a time when I was much younger, much more naive, and much nicer), I was the proud owner of a turtle named MC Turtle, a guinea pig named Palmetto, and several (the count is probably closer to several hundred) goldfish. And I have a particular (and unexplicable) fondness for elephants.

My hatred is strictly aimed toward household dogs and cats. And, for once, I actually have strong cases as to why I depise them so. Besides the obvious downsides to cats and dogs - they smell bad when not cleaned, they cannot clean themselves, they shed, their fur is allergenic, they have bed breath, they will maul you to death simply because they are excited, they do not clean up after themselves, they crawl into bed with you uninvited, they scratch you in the face while you're sleeping, etc. - I have some very legitimate justifications for my displeasure with these two particular species. I feel like I must explain myself and clear the air in this public forum because every time I mention to anyone that I don't like dogs and/or cats, I am immediately attacked and called a cold heartless bitch. Just because I am not an animal lover does not make me a bad person. See explanations below.

Scaring Scenario One: When I was in elementary and middle school, I had a very close friend named...let's call her CP. I spent a lot of time at CP's house. CP's house, however, was a disaster. She had four dogs at one point, none of whom were ever completely house trained. I can't even tell you how many times we stumbled across one of CP's dog's misgivings on the living room carpet. Her dogs were rambunctious - attacking, jumping, and licking you all over whenever you walked in CP's front door - even if you had just been inside and thay had already given you the sniff-down. I think I may have even been knocked to the ground on a few occasions. These were not small dogs, mind you. The house was covered from top to bottom in dog hair. You couldn't wear dark colored clothing to her house - unless you wanted to walk out visibly coated in labrador hair. I know CP and her family washed and cleaned their dogs, but somehow, they always seemed to be dirty and smell bad. I recall specifically the dogs' disgusting breath and the trauma it reeked on my nostrils. The dogs also always seemed to have that gook in their eyes that they develop when they're sick. I'm talking always and that stuff REALLY grosses me out.

Scaring Scenario Two: There was also another experience that, I think, cemented my hatred of dogs: I dog-sat for one of my friends one summer for a few weeks and basically all I had to do was come into the house twice a day and walk and feed the two dogs. Simple, right? I don't know what I did to those dogs, but literally everytime I came in to feed and walk them, there would be a HUGE puddle of diarea in the middle of the kitchen floor. And it always smelled like death. I'm talking really really horrible. I don't want to get to intricate with the description because I might loose my lunch, but it was runny and emitted the most foul smell I have ever smelled. And just imagine, I had to clean this shit (literally) up EVERY DAY.

Obviously these were very traumatic experiences for me and I maintain that this is what is directly repsonsible for my hatred of dogs.

Scaring Scenario Three: Cats, on the other hand, I am allergic to, so that is the main reason I don't like them. When I'm around cats, my eyes become bloodshot and begin to water, my throat and ears itch, and I sneeze uncontrollably. Attractive, I know.

Scaring Scenario Four: Also, I house-sat one summer for a couple who had a cat (yes, obviously a dumb idea when I'm allergic to cats and obviously something I should never agree to do based on prior experiences, I know!) and over the course of the summer, the house developed an incredibly horrible odor. I could never figure out what was causing it, and I looked up and down and inside and out for the cause of the smell. But when I couldn't locate the origin of the smell, I just automatically assumed it was the cat. That also helped to drop cats down to the bottom of my list.

Scaring Scenario Five: Finally, I once slept over at a friend's house who had just acquired a kitten. The kitten was cute in every way. I had no complaints, that is, until I woke up the next morning to find that my face had been slashed by the cat during the night. Like I literally looked like a cat had attacked my face in the middle of the night. It was not only painful, but embarrassing as well.

So I think this is all the explanation I need to give as to why I am not an animal fan. Totally legit, right?

I HATE! Crocs

2008-04-13T18:14:00.000-07:00

I think it's entirely possible that Crocs are, in fact, the ugliest shoes ever invented. (And think I have the right to pass judgment because I'm practically a shoe connoisseur - you can ask anyone.)

My question is this: Why can't people see how truly hideous theses shoes are (...if you can even call them shoes - they're more like floatation devices for the feet)? They're neon foam clogs with a heel strap. Doesn't the description alone kind of make you want to vom? What is so remarkable about this shoe? Why does everyone from Mario Batali to my two-year-old cousin show up looking like they're wearing just the feet from a Sesame Street character costume? I actually believe that Mr. Batali was one of the original proponents of the Croc phenomenon, which is odd considering that he is such a large man, and the two giant pieces of foam-rubber on his feet make his legs look like those toothpicks that hold sandwiches together.

Regardless of who should really be blamed for, i mean, credited with the introduction of the Croc, the shoe has caught on like wildfire, and now I am forced to see this atrocious trend whenever I walk out my front door (and even inside my front door, so to speak, as I recently discovered one of my boyfriend's roommates owns a pair. I almost jumped out of my skin when I came upon them). The company must really be doing well because, to my dismay, a Crocs store (read: a store entirely filled with Crocs - nothing but Crocs) was put in a few blocks from my office and now, everytime I walk uptown, I am unwillingly subjected to the new fur-lined, yes fur-lined, Crocs annoyingly situated in the front window.

Maybe I understand them as a shoe for little kids. They are foam-rubber, which is easy for those members of our society who have not yet fully developed hand-to-eye coordination. You can just slip your foot inside - no laces needed! (Let me just take this moment to note that Crocs are almost in the same family as, if not identical to, clogs and I HATE CLOGS as well; they may in fact be the ugliest type of show ever created. Blog entry to follow.) They seem to be safe for little kids, although I do not understand how a clog-esque shoe stays on your foot as you run. I do also recall hearing a few stories of children getting their Crocs sucked into escalators, but that's just water under the bridge. (It seems the Croc company did a pretty good job of sweeping reports of those incidents under the rug.) And they're colorful, which is something kids are apparently in to. And you can buy these additional little pieces in the shape of flowers or trucks or stars or whatever you want to decorate the outside of the Croc with. (You wanna know how I know all this? I spent an afternoon babysitting my two-year-old cousin / dissecting / studying her three pairs frighteningly overly-adorned of Crocs.) So I get it; they're fun for little kids. Still ugly, but fun... I guess.

But my pain problem with the shoe lies with the other demographic who has seemed to take a liking to Crocs - ADULTS! There is actually no legtimate excuse for any adult to be caught dead wearing Crocs. They may be comfortable (I'm convinced that this is the main reason why the Ugg trend lingered so long), but they are truly hideous and the two simply don't cancel each other out! There are plenty of other comfortable shoes that aren't butt ugly. Not to mention that no one will respect you if you wear Crocs (how Batali gets away with this, I have no idea). They're a child's shoe, if a shoe at all, and any adult who wears these will undoubtedly look foolish and should be endlessly and mercilessly mocked. Crocs are not appropriate footwear; appropriate for saving you from drowning in a firery boat crash, yes, but for wearing, no - not for work, not for leisure, NEVER!

I HATE ! Paris Hilton

2008-04-09T11:33:00.000-07:00

My mother always used to say that Paris Hilton is a completely worthless human being – a complete waste of space. I usually tend NOT to agree with my mother on most things, but I must say, this is one of those issues for which our viewpoints are quite similar.

Believe it or not, I really don’t like referring to someone as completely worthless (even that’s a bit harsh for me), so I’ve tried numerous times to come up with something that legitimizes her. I haven’t had any luck. See the internal dialogue I had with myself below.

Hmmm, Paris is famous for being famous, but how did she really generate so much publicity for herself when she doesn't actually have any real credits to her name? For sure, she is a tabloid queen, and definitely garned alot of attention by just being photographed wearing skimpy (and usually hideous) outfits at red carpet events. But how did she even get invited to red carpert events - she isn't particularly accomplished (House of Wax, anyone?) or smart (did she even graduate from high school?) or beautiful (read: wonky eye)?

Oh yes, she is ridiculously wealthy. That's why she gets invited to events. (And just for the record, I do not think that being rich is a legitimate reason to be invited anywhere... unless the event is a charity auction.)

The sex tape is probably what catapulted her into the spotlight – without One Night in Paris thousands of men would never have seen Paris, cloaked in the iridescent glow of a night vision camera, bobbing up and down on top of Rick Soloman (Wait, who is he? Oh yes, he had the balls to marry another great example of humankind - Shannon Doherty).

She did profit off of the sales of One Night in Paris, right? Which means that she must have been involved in the business negoiations. That says something about her intelligence, right? Nah - she probably had someone do the whole deal for her. It was probably the same guy who staged that picture that ran as the US Weekly cover of her 'sobbing uncontrollably' when she found out the tape had leaked.

But then again, she was dumb enough to make the tape in the first place. And honestly, Rick Soloman? Yikes! That guy has probably seen more STDs than Paris, Pamela, and Shannon Doherty combined.

Besdies Rick Soloman and a few other notable unexplicably disgusting-looking men, she has dated some very attractive fellows. (That's not to say I would touch any of them with a ten foot poll after she finished with them though. That's like a guaranteed way to catch an STD.) She was even engaged at one point! That means she must have truly been in love! And that means she is capable of human emotion. Yay! Oh, but wasn't that guy also names Paris (something, unfortunately, which discredits him completely)? And didn't they break up after, um, a minute. And hasn't she been engaged several other times to several different fellows? And didn't all the engagements end up broken? Ok, so also not a great example of her character.

She did have her own reality show! Yes! That was also played a big part in the solidifictaion of Paris as an A-list celebrity. And, it was defintiely on for a few solid seasons. I know people who watched it - I never would because that would be like instant suicide. Ugh, but let’s be honest, the only thing that show did for humanity was make us all less intelligent. I'm not even sure Paris and Nicole can form complete sentences other than the ever-poignant "That's hot". I actually refused to watch the show because it was that incredibly dumb. Putting Paris and Nicole Richie on TV for that many seasons definitely caused detrimental and irreversible long-term mental effects on the American population.

Moving on... Some may consider Paris a fashion icon, but I cannot even pretend to consider this notion. Maybe they mean she is a fashion icon to the blind community. But as far as I'm concerned, only wearing bright pink and neon blue rhinestoned velour hoodies (you know my position on this already) does not qualify you to be a fashion god. Needless to say, Paris should stop wasting her time designing this "designer shoe line". I've seen some of the shoes; they're heinous.

Ok, I have nothing more. I'm exhausted. I tried to legitimize her. I really did, but it's hard to combat the walking STD jokes. I hate Paris Hilton. It makes me cringe when I spot her in my beloved US Weekly. She shouldn't be a celebrity. There should be requirements to become a celebrity and one of them should be that you need to have done something notable or credible - and I'm sorry Paris, you've done none of the above. And being in jail for 5 minutes doesn't count either.

You remain on my Hate list. So sorry :-(

I HATE! Politicians and the ‘Emphasis Fist’

2008-04-09T11:31:00.002-07:00

I guess I understand why they do it. You know what I’m talking about – the ‘emphasis fist’. Bill Clinton was a pro at it (and don't get me wrong, I loooooooove Bill, it's just the fist that I don't like). It’s the way a politician kind of balls up his hand as he is trying to emphasize a specific point in a speech. You ball up your fist and strike the air with it as if to say ‘This is where I’m really going to hit this home.’ It’s similar to the hand motion that Donald Trump makes when he’s firing someone on The Apprentice.

I get it; it’s for effect, but having seen it so many times, and we can thank Mr. Clinton for that, it seems a little bit ridiculous. At this point, when I see a politician doing it, it just reminds me of one of those hammer-looking things that you use to pound meat. (And if we're going to get graphic, the motion is most definitely reminiscent of a little sexual thing called fisting. You're going to have to look that one up on your own.)

Come on – surely someone has come up with a hand motion that has been proven to woo voters or prove a point more effectively than the ‘emphasis fist.’ I’m not even entirely convinced it works. When I see a politician doing that during a speech, I just giggle to myself and images of Bill Clinton saying "I did not have sexual relations with that woman!" flash through my mind.

I HATE! People Who Are Loud at Inopportune Times and in Small Spaces

2008-04-09T11:31:00.001-07:00

There is a high-level executive in my office that cackles at the top of her lungs several times an hour, every hour, every day. I can hear her all the way down the hall. I jump in my desk chair every time her shrill laughter pierces the air.

Similarly, one of my former roommates could not be quiet if someone bound her mouth shut. I have had to sleep with ear plugs in my ears to drown out the sound of her screaming obscenities at the television late at night. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, she simply did not know how to keep the volume of her voice to a minimum – not even when she was making herself breakfast in the kitchen, which was right next to my room, at 7 AM on a Saturday morning.

Unless there’s a medical condition that I am not aware of, a person should be able to control the volume of his or her voice, and adjust it as appropriate from situation to situation. For example: I do not want to hear from the opposite end of the subway car what your boyfriend said to you when he dumped your ass for another woman. Likewise, I don’t want to hear every little bit of the cell phone conversation you’re having with your co-worker about how horrible your boss is while waiting behind you in the make-your-own-salad line. Similarly, I don’t want to listen to you as you practice the song for your audition tomorrow at the top of your lungs at 1 AM. And I certainly don’t want to hear (from down the hall with my door closed) whatever it is that you’re yelling at the TV about this time.

I have no problem with loud - at the right time. You're at a football game? Be as loud as you want when hurling insults at the opposing team's fans! I love it. You're at a concert? Go nuts screaming at the top of your lungs for that aging former 80s heartthrob. Be my guest! You're wasted and dancing on the top of a table at an out-of-control house party? Let loose and as loudly as possible yell to your pal on the other side of the house to come join you. I have no problem with that! Hell - I'll join you on top of that table.

Those are perfect examples of opportune times to be loud. But I always seem to situate myself next to the guy who is excitedly trying to close the most important deal of his life on his cell phone in a tiny and packed elevator.

I just wish that people would realize that it's not appropriate or appreciated to be loud in a small space. This is not good for anyone's eardrums. It's just like people who drive around with their stereos turned all the way up with their windows up and you, all the way down the street in another car, are pained by the loudness of this music and intensity of the bass. How do those guys even survive driving around like that? They have to be deaf.

Eureka! Maybe volume-control issues are actually a sign that a person is partially or fully deaf? Scientific breakthrough, perhaps?

See, this blog is actually helping to benefit humankind.

I HATE! People Who Stare at You for No Good Reason

2008-04-09T11:30:00.001-07:00

Maybe I’m paranoid (and I'll admit that I've been told that on several occasions), but, I swear, I people are ALWAYS looking at me strangely! I'm talking obvious glares here. I don't understand it. I always thought I was a pretty generic-looking person; there's really not that much to look at. I'm not grossly overweight. I'm not stunningly gorgeous. I'm not a ginger kid. I don't have any physical deformity. I'm not a Siamese twin. I generally don't dress particularly wacky or revealing. Truth be told, I'm pretty average looking.

So unless I’m walking around with my face melting off, there’s no excuse for someone I don’t know to grill me for a good 30 seconds as I walk past them. Maybe I’m hideously ugly and no one has ever told me. I guess there's always the possibility that I have an extra head growing out of my neck that I wasn’t previously aware of, but if neither of these is the case, there’s absolutely no reason for me to be generating the menacing glares of so many strangers. It just doesn’t make sense!

I freely admit that I check people out as I’m passing them on the street and certainly I like to people watch while I’m waiting for the subway or riding in a cab, but I NEVER spend more than 5 seconds scoping someone out, and when I do, it’s usually because I’m admiring an outfit or coveting a perfectly groomed mane of hair. Completely innocent.

I will also admit that I've been accused of walking around with a generally nasty and/or mean expression on my face, but I swear, it’s only when I feel I am being glared at that my eyes linger. And if this is the case, I am usually, by that point, giving that particular person one of my signature dirty looks or the stink eye in retaliation.

Needless to say, if I felt that someone was staring at me with admiration, desire, lust, or even jealously, I would walk on by, secretly happy that I had generated such feelings in others, but that scenario just never seems to be the case. It’s always the disapproving look from the middle-aged woman or the death stare from another female twenty-something. Can’t a girl get a break?

Recently, I have developed a new method for handling those who try to bore holes in my head with their eyes – give them a look that’s to say ‘What? Do you have something to say to me? Keep staring at me like that and I’ll rip your head clean off your neck.’ That usually does the job.

I HATE! When People Try to Fit into Subway Seats that Are Too Small for Them

2008-04-09T11:27:00.000-07:00

Imagine this: You’re sitting on the end of a three-person seat on the subway. Another person is sitting in the seat at the other end of the three – leaving one seat in between the two of you.

Everyone who rides the subways in NYC knows that subway seats are pretty narrow; they’re not nearly wide enough to fit three normal-sized people across with comfort. Granted, I realize that comfort is probably not one of the MTA’s top priorities, but the narrowness of the seats leads me to my next pet peeve – when someone tries to squeeze into the middle seat when there is clearly not enough room for him or her to do so.

If it looks like there’s not enough room for you to fit between the two already-seated riders, please, don’t try to squeeze yourself in. It will only make everyone uncomfortable - you included.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining about overweight people here. If I board the train and upon assessing my seating options, see the above scenario, and I determine that the empty seat between the two seated riders in not large enough for me to sit in comfortably, then I will remain standing. I won’t even try. And through this blog, I am urging every other MTA rider, big or small, to do the same.

Of course, part of my abhorrence of this scenario comes from my extreme dislike of rubbing up against people I do not know. Even when I just see someone trying to squish in the middle subway seat, I cringe. If I am sitting on one of the end seats in a three-seater and someone wiggles his way between me and the other passenger seated on the other end of the three-seater, I will probably get up and move. I would much rather stand than be sandwiched between two potentially dirty, sweaty, and germ-ridden strangers with bad breath, body odor, and lice looking for a new home. The thought of this makes me want to vomit.

And I don't care if you're offended by my getting up the moment you sit down, practically on me (that's how small the subway seats are); you shouldn't be trying to squeeze your huge ass into the tiny sliver of orange or yellow plastic that remains between me and the person at the other end of the three-seater. I would get up even if Prince Harry himself sat down next to me (and I love me some hot prince ginge). I just don't like touching other people!

But seriously, the point is, it won't kill you to stand for two more minutes until someone sitting in a non-middle seat gets up! People are just so damn lazy! (Note to self: I Hate! Lazy People)

I HATE! Slow Drivers

2008-04-09T11:17:00.001-07:00

eccentrichic: dude you HAVE to write about your road rage....seriously....nothing compares to the anger you release when driving behind an abnormally slow human being

So... I definitely have some road rage issues. This I will not deny, but instead will blame on my father - a man with serious road rage (I'm talking driving up on curbs and medians to get around slow drivers). After growing up in such an environment, how could I help but become an aggressive driver? I was powerless to resist. I'm pretty sure I was born with the agressive driver gene. Even when I ride as a passenger in someone else's car, I can feel myself critiquing their driving - urging them silently in my mind to speed up to catch the yellow light before it turns red or to pass the car on their left because the old lady at the wheel is driving too slowly for my liking. No joke, it makes me anxious to drive with other people because I'm not in control of the car.

This lack of control brings me to one of my most lameted pet peeves. For sure, I am the most vocal about this one. Anyone who has driven with me knows that I CANNOT STAND slow drivers. If you want to meander your way down the freeway, that's fine, but don't poke along in the left lane! The left lane is for people who want to drive fast - namely me. I hate it when people drive slowly in the left lane. Well, to be more accurate, I hate it when people drive slowly in ANY lane.

It's not that I think everyone should drive like a speed demon, but I certainly think that it's common courtesy to move out of the way of a fellow driver who is seemingly trying to pass you. If that requires you to pull over to the shoulder because you're driving on a one-lane road, do so! That's all I'm asking for - a little common courtesy, a little human compassion!

If you're a slow driver, perhaps just a cautious one, stick to the right lane and let people pass you! And that brings me to another point: I am also enraged when people are driving slowly, but when you try to pass them, they speed up to prevent you from doing so. This may actually infuriates me to an even higher degree - if that's possible. If you want to drive slowly, drive slowly, but let other people drive quickly and pass you. What's the harm? It's only one car length. It's not going to make much of a difference. And if you're driving slow enough for me to want to pass you, you're not getting to where you're going any time soon regardless.

This discussion kind of makes me want to run someone over with my car...